


Then Comes After

by TomFooleryPrime



Series: The Serendipity Paradox Series [4]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: Enterprise, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alien Culture, Alien Planet, Career Change, Culture Shock, Developing Friendships, F/M, Interspecies Relationship(s), Klingons, Marriage, Married Life, Mentors, Moving, Moving In Together, Pregnancy, Romulans, Secret Diplomacy, Vulcan, Vulcan Culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-08-11 05:55:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 78,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7879084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TomFooleryPrime/pseuds/TomFooleryPrime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She expected to live happily ever after with Sarek, but what she got instead was a fierce struggle to find her place in an alien culture and a crash course in high stakes, interplanetary politics. The story of how Amanda Grayson quietly negotiated a critical Federation peace treaty and defined herself as more than an ambassador's wife.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story is the third in a series that includes _[The Serendipity Paradox](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6953656/chapters/15854764)_ and _[How to Date a Vulcan and Protocols for Human Courtship](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7267336/chapters/16501099)_. Though it can be read as a standalone story, it will make frequent references to events that occurred in those two earlier installments, particularly _The Serendipity Paradox_.

**January 2228**

Amanda set the vase of roses on the center of the table and smiled. It had taken a bit of work to make Sarek's house a proper home, but things were coming together. They had been married in a small ceremony on Vulcan nearly five months ago, and since returning to Earth, things had been interesting.

The previous November she had finally left Project Rosetta, following a six-month extension of her contract. It had been an exciting challenge to be part of the collaborative effort of thousands of linguists, translators, cultural advisors, computer scientists, and engineers to complete a universal translator, but now that chapter of her life was over, and preliminary versions were already installed in half the vessels in Starfleet.

She had spent much of December out of work and out of her mind with boredom, but had quickly found a position as an adjunct undergraduate professor in linguistics at the University of California at San Francisco. She only taught two lower division courses, but in the two weeks since the session had started, she'd been quickly immersed in academic culture.

She had been like many of her students once, and thought it was a fun game to tease out which ones were genuinely passionate about the field of linguistics and which were just jockeying for attention as a means of procuring a better grade or a potential letter of recommendation.

Word had quickly spread that she was married to a Vulcan, and that point of interest quickly dwarfed most other questions about the course material. She knew her marriage to Sarek wasn't conventional by human or Vulcan standards, but humans were a lot more overt in their open curiosity about her life and spousal choice. Most tried to disguise it by asking more roundabout questions, such as wondering whether or not they spoke Vuhlkansu at home or what it was like to be an ambassador's wife.

She despised referring to herself as an ambassador's wife, since no one referred to Sarek as a junior professor's husband. As much as she disliked it, it was a title she would never get away from, and it carried a number of implied responsibilities that she often struggled to recognize and cope with.

Sarek was often away, and even when he was home, he worked long hours at the embassy. She had expected that, but she hadn't anticipated just how much of the rest of his time would be consumed by social demands.

When Sarek had been a bachelor, no one had expected him to host dinners or attend very many non-professional functions. Now that he had a human wife, a lot of people seemed to view it as an opportunity to get better acquainted with the reserved Vulcan ambassador, and Amanda couldn't help but feel that it was at her expense. She could never quite shake the feeling that she was being turned into a point of gossip or being constantly judged.

Since marrying Sarek, her world had grown exponentially. She had yet to stop being overwhelmed by the sheer quantity of people that he knew, and the minor details of their lives that he kept straight in his head. He could easily recall many things, from how Federation councilmembers had voted on a particular issue four years earlier or how many mistresses a particular Tellarite governor had, and which ones were permissible to speak about and which ones were not.

Amanda wouldn't call herself shy, but she tended more toward introversion. She was very slowly growing more comfortable moving around in Sarek's impossibly large social circle, but she had yet to stop feeling like she was just pretending at the political and diplomatic lifestyle to which her husband seemed completely accustomed. Every conversation still felt like it held the potential for some embarrassing gaffe or ignorant comment.

At their first public function together as a married couple, the wife of the Terran Vice President asked how large of a staff she kept, and she had been forced to admit she didn't have a full-time staff, which the woman had thought was "charmingly delightful." Before they were married, a woman named Maggie came and cleaned Sarek's living quarters twice a month, and since Amanda had moved in, she now came twice a week.

Amanda couldn't resign herself to sitting on the couch while someone else cleaned up her messes, even if she was being paid to do so, and often fell in beside the middle-aged woman to dust and sweep. Sarek found that particular habit strange, and no matter how hard she tried, she still hadn't found a way to adequately explain the work ethic her father had instilled in her.

Euclid gracefully leapt onto the dining room table and began to brush his face along the vase with the flowers. She tried to shoo him down, but he stared at her disinterestedly and stalked to the other end of the table. Her cat and grown quite fond of Sarek, and she occasionally joked that he was more her husband's cat than he was hers.

She hadn't been sure how well they would get along together, because she'd made the mistaken assumption that Vulcans would find keeping pets to be illogical. Sarek had informed her that as a child, he'd had a pet sehlat called I-Chaya, and explained that he understood that by marrying Amanda, he would be required to accept Euclid into his life as well, and would gladly do so.

Euclid had accepted Sarek just as readily. Her husband had the unique ability to get Euclid to comply with most of his wishes, and the black and white cat seemed to love him all the more for it. They quickly learned to shut the bedroom door while they slept, otherwise the cat would attempt to perch himself on Sarek's chest. More than once, Sarek had thrown him out of the bedroom for the cat's persistent interruptions during his meditative periods.

She moved around to the other end of the table to collect Euclid, but he turned his head toward the door, jumped from the table, and raced to wait near the entryway.

_Sarek was home._

She was surprised by his early arrival. It was only 1830 on a Thursday, and Sarek typically wouldn't arrive home for at least another hour. She hadn't even given any thought to what they would eat for dinner, and wondered if the chickpea stew left over from the night before would be enough for them both.

He walked through the door and began removing his shoes. It was still lightly sleeting outside, and his cheeks were flushed with a greenish tinge from the cold. She greeted him at the door and took his heavy cloak.

"You're home early," she grinned.

"The emergency staff at the consular complex recommended everyone leave early if possible, due to the approaching inclement weather," he explained.

If a minor ice storm could convince Sarek to come home earlier, Amanda might have agreed to move to Antarctica. He reached out his right hand and she met her two forefingers to his, enjoying the pleasant sensation of ozh'esta and feeling surprised by how cold his hand was.

She clasped both of his hands between both of hers to warm them slightly, and gently led him out of the entryway.

"I can't imagine Vulcan gets many ice storms," she teased.

"No," he agreed. "Though since you refer to Vulcan, I have news to share with you."

She looked at him expectantly over the long, granite kitchen counter. Early in their relationship, they'd endured frequent miscommunications and misunderstandings, but they were getting better about sharing things with one another. Sarek still occasionally failed to inform her of important news or changes to his schedule until the last moment, but she tried to remember that very often,  _he_  didn't know about things until the last moment himself.

"The Vulcan Science Academy has offered me a position on the Astrophysics Advisory Board."

Amanda caught her breath and stared at him in astonishment. Her husband had always been privately drawn to the sciences, but had pursued a diplomatic career at the behest of his family.

"So, what does that mean? Are you giving up your ambassadorship?"

"No, not formally," he replied. "Many of my duties can be performed from Vulcan, with routine visits to Earth."

"So, that's it then? We're just…  _moving to Vulcan_?"

"I have not formally accepted the offer," he explained. "I wished to discuss it with you first, though I sense you are not greatly enthusiastic about the prospect."

"No," she said quickly, leaning her palms against the counter. "I'm just kind of in shock. It's a surprise, is all."

She had always understood he wouldn't be posted to Earth forever, but she didn't think they would have to move so soon.

"It was merely an offer, one which I am able to reject, should you-"

"You're not seriously thinking about turning it down?" she interrupted, looking at him with stern incredulity.

She knew Sarek had waited  _years_  for this kind of opportunity, and had spent decades cultivating relationships with individuals on the Federation and Vulcan Science Councils. She had learned enough about Vulcan culture and politics to know that this kind of offer wouldn't be extended to him again if he refused it.

"It had occurred to me, should you desire to remain on Earth and continue your work at the university," he explained.

She was dumbfounded. She  _was_  enjoying her new job, but it was far from her dream career. She wasn't even sure what her dream career was, or if she even had one. She attempted to get a sense of what he was thinking through their shared mating bond, but he was doing an impeccable job of segregating his mind from hers.

"I know what this kind of position means to you," she replied slowly. "I've always known we would move away from here someday, and if it has to be now, at least it's for a good reason."

"You are certain?" he asked.

"When do we leave?" she replied with a grim smile.

"I would be due on Vulcan before the beginning of the New Year."

"The Vulcan New Year, or the Federation New Year?"

"The Vulcan New Year," he clarified.

She exhaled sharply and did her best to conceal her disappointment. Vulcans observed a very short year, one that was only about three-quarters of a standard Earth year. If memory served her correctly, the season of T'Khut, or the traditional Vulcan New Year, began in about two weeks.

"Well, I guess let's eat a quick dinner and then start packing," she said with feigned cheerfulness.

" _I sense you are falling victim to the illogical human habit of saying one thing but intending another_ ," Sarek said through their telepathic mating bond.

"No," she replied honestly. "I really want this for you. It was just unexpected. I just need time to get used to the idea, but that doesn't mean I'm going to change my mind."

He looked at her carefully and she added, "Even Vulcans sometimes meditate to collect their thoughts on important life decisions, right?"

The rest of the evening passed by in a blur for Amanda, and they went to bed early. Sarek was soon asleep, but Amanda lie awake in bed and allowed her mind free reign to more fully digest the idea of moving sixteen light years away from home.

She agonized over the smaller details first, finding them easier to cope with and analyze. She penned an appropriate resignation letter in her head and imagined what she would say to her students. She thought about the best way to tell her mother, and very quickly began to panic.

The larger details immediately began to creep into her thoughts, and brought with them a nearly overpowering anxiety.

Would she find a job on Vulcan? Would she find  _friends_  on Vulcan? Would she ever master concealing her emotions in public?

She took a deep breath and tried to calm her nerves. She rolled her head on her pillow to observe Sarek as he slept, and resisted the urge to wake him up and ask dozens of questions.

Sarek was the love of her life, and she had meant it when she told him she would follow him anywhere. It had been an easy commitment to make when the thought of moving to some alien or exotic place was an abstract, eventual possibility. Yet now, in the darkness of their bedroom on that cold January night, feeling alone and terrorized by her own worried thoughts, she realized that reality was coming, and she did not feel ready for it.

"I love you, Sarek," she whispered aloud, before rolling onto her right side to stare up at the moon through the high window in their bedroom.

It occurred to her that she would be moving to a place where she would never see the familiar light of Earth's bright moon, and wondered if she would miss it. It was then that she started to feel quite silly. She appreciated the white-blue light as a ritual, nightly occurrence, but she didn't  _love_  the moon. She loved Sarek.

She could make a life anywhere, as long as it was with him. The rest was just details.


	2. A Cold Welcome

**February, 2228**

Sarek carefully observed his wife fret over unpacking their household. It was obvious she was taking great care to conceal her emotions in the presence of the movers, but he could sense through their shared bond that she was tired, agitated, and overwhelmed.

In their last weeks on Earth, his schedule had kept him completely occupied, and so the logistics of their move to Vulcan had fallen largely to Amanda to coordinate. She had managed it well: everything had arrived in the correct location at the appointed time.

The one significant point of difficulty had been Amanda's cat. Vulcan had rigorous standards for permitting off-world species onto the planet in non-research settings, and there was no precedent for the relocation of felines from Earth to his home planet.

Amanda had nearly lost her temper earlier that morning with an agent from the Vulcan Wildlife Ministry who insisted on a third examination of the animal, despite her ability to produce two separate health certificates from Terran and Vulcan health agencies certifying that her cat was healthy and vaccinated against all known and anticipated communicable diseases.

The Wildlife Ministry's concerns were understandable. Terran felines were predatory creatures, and feral populations on Earth had led to the extinction of a number of bird and reptile species over the centuries. Yet Amanda's arguments were equally valid: she only possessed one sterilized, domesticated male, and therefore, the risk of introducing a devastating, invasive species to Vulcan was non-existent.

She had tried her hand at unimpassioned logic with the wildlife agent, but eventually submitted to frustration and began raising her voice when he refused to acknowledge any of her points. Sarek had intervened and negotiated a swift compromise, but the man had remarked on Amanda's disappointing emotionality, and she had regrettably overheard him.

He appreciated her efforts to conceal her outward emotions and acknowledged she did so more convincingly than most members of her species, but her abilities still fell far short of what many Vulcans would consider appropriate personal restraint.

She had not spoken a word since the agent had left two hours earlier, but had busied herself with unpacking her clothing. They were in their shared bedroom, and she was sitting on her knees and unfolding winter clothing. She had beads of sweat trickling down her temples, and she was petting a gray coat with large brown buttons.

"I probably won't have much use for this here," she said casually, tossing it back into the suitcase.

Much of her clothing would be impractical on Vulcan, either because it was designed for inclement weather that Vulcan rarely, if ever, experienced, or because it exposed too much of her skin.

Bare arms and legs were not an issue of modesty for Vulcans: it was merely a matter of protecting large areas of the body from the intense radiation of Vulcan's nearby star. On his planet at midday, ultraviolet radiation was nearly twice that of Earth's, and Amanda had poorly pigmented skin prone to radiation burns.

"Perhaps you should consume water and rest," he urged.

"I at least want to get the rest of the clothes unpacked," she replied.

She brushed her fingers through her damp hair and reached back into the suitcase without looking at him.

Amanda was a sensible woman, but he was concerned that she was underestimating the toll the climate would take on her body. A healer had administered the first of a schedule of tri-ox injections during their journey to better acclimate her to the planet's harsher environment, but she would still need to take care to prevent herself from becoming overheated or hypoxic.

His own body was still not sufficiently adjusted to the thinner atmosphere and the warmer weather, so he stood to leave in order to lower the house's environmental settings by another three degrees.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Amanda asked suddenly.

"I am uncertain of what you refer to."

She exhaled sharply and replied, "When that guy said I was 'disappointingly emotional.' You just stood there and seemed to agree with him."

"You  _are_  more emotional than most Vulcans are accustomed to," he explained.

"I guess I can't argue with that," she replied through gritted teeth. "But it just sounded so insulting."

"Offense over a casual observation is illogical," he argued.

"But wouldn't you also say it's illogical to be rude, and say whatever comes to mind, even if it adds no value to the conversation or situation at hand?"

"Yes," Sarek agreed. "You seem to imply I should have provided some form of correction for his perceived slight to you."

She bit down on her bottom lip and stared at some unknown point at the wall directly in front of her.

"No, I don't need you to fight my battles for me," she said eventually.

Through their bond, he could sense sadness beginning to mingle with her exhaustion and irritation.

"I'm fine," she added.

"'Fine' is an imprecise term."

" _Ok_ , then I'll adapt to my present circumstances. Is that precise enough?"

The human tendency toward sarcasm was often lost on him, but he was learning to recognize it in his wife. More importantly, he was aware that continuing to engage her in conversation when her speech shifted into bitterness was often pointless.

He prepared to leave, but before exiting the room, he said, "I intend to visit the Vulcan Science Academy this evening."

" _This_  evening?"

"Yes, I had presumed that was made clear by my statement."

"But it's only our first day here. We haven't even been here for twelve hours, and there's still so much unpacking to do."

"Settling our household and affairs is an important task," he agreed, "but one which is not an immediate requirement. I have been asked to meet with the Academy's governors at my earliest convenience, and unless you require my presence, I would prefer to do that before the day is done."

Her mouth drifted open in obvious astonishment, but she snapped it shut and went back to digging through the suitcase that contained her winter clothing. Euclid entered the room and brushed up against his legs before stalking over to Amanda's suitcase and settling himself down on the clothing she was sorting.

Sarek left to adjust the environmental settings and checks the messages on his PADD. Vulcan's standard days were slightly shorter than Earth's, and after a quick calculation in his head, he realized it was currently 1348 on Earth.

He busied himself for the next hour composing several communiqués for his Terran staff, and then departed for the Academy. As he turned the shuttlecar up the drive to enter onto the long stretch of road into Shi'Khar, his thoughts turned back to Amanda.

His wife was now completely dependent upon him, and he knew that was an illogical source of injury to her pride. As mates, it was reasonable for them to provide for one another, but he understood that concept extended beyond simple financial and domestic issues.

He wished to provide a means for her to more fully integrate herself into her new home. Amanda had always seemed to place a high value on her independence, and he acknowledged that her decision to follow him to Vulcan had cost her dearly in terms of her professional advancement and familial and social relationships.

He also recognized the problem of her physical isolation: his family estate on the outskirts of Shi'Kahr was approximately twelve kilometers away from the nearest settlement and more than thirty kilometers away from central Shi-Kahr, and the shuttlecar he was currently driving was their only means of transportation.

He would prefer that Amanda be able to move about at her discretion, not just for her personal liberty, but also for her safety. The only logical course of action would be to purchase a second vehicle for her use and get her licensed to operate it.

He continued to analyze strategies for assisting her in adapting to her new life for the remainder of the drive to the Vulcan Science Academy. He entered the establishment's underground garage just as Vulcan's vibrant sun had nearly disappeared over the horizon of the capital city, and he paused to appreciate the beauty of his home world. He had been away far too long.

* * *

Amanda stretched and scowled. The sun had not yet risen over the nearby mountains, and it already felt like it was about thirty-five degrees Celsius outside.

They had moved to Vulcan four days ago. She could count on one hand the number of hours she'd spent in Sarek's company, and the rest of her existence had blurred into a mix of sweat, loneliness, and boredom. Her husband seemed to have taken up residence at the Vulcan Science Academy, and more than once she'd bitterly asked herself why she'd moved here in the first place.

She knew she was being a bit unfair. Firstly, they hadn't even been here a week, and secondly, her husband was a busy man, and it was not his job to be her private entertainment committee. In the weeks before they'd moved, she'd optimistically looked upon the unexpected relocation as a means to brush up on her language skills and read all the books she'd been putting off because she had previously been too busy.

In practice, studying the finer points of the Tellarite language all day long in a sweltering house wasn't exactly her idea of a good time. What she desperately wanted was a job, but figured she could settle for an intensive hobby, or even a few friends.

She glanced at the vast desert that lay before her, and supposed she would even settle for a few neighbors.

For the past two days, she'd risen before the sun to sit out on the portico adjacent to their bedroom and enjoy the mildest part of the day before the sun drove the temperature to intolerable levels. For as harsh as Vulcan was, the reddish planet produced the most dazzling sunrise she'd ever seen, and it was a quiet way to note the passage of time.

"Watching the sunrise is the highlight of her day," she laughed aloud to herself. "Pun intended."

Sarek had already left an hour earlier for some scientific demonstration at the Academy, which made her wonder at the nature of Vulcan work ethic. She had thought her husband kept an impossible schedule when they lived on Earth, but now that he was home among members of his own species, he seemed caught up in the rat race of spending his entire existence engaged in ceaseless work.

The soft light of daybreak rapidly grew into warmer hues as the sun began to crest the peaks of the distant mountains. As the colors of the desert changed, she noted the movement of something large less than twenty meters away. It was some kind of large animal.

It was frozen in front of a large rock face, staring intently at her. It was brownish in color, much like the surrounding desert, which was perhaps why she hadn't noticed it until now. As her eyes began to focus more clearly in the dim light of the dawn, she could see it looked like a strange hybrid between a small bear and a large dog with a terrifying pair of canine teeth that were easily longer than her fingers.

Its eyes were trained on her in a predatory way, and the prehistoric parts of her brain began sending out various instinctive alarms. She felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck and arms, and felt a surge of adrenaline course through her. She stood slowly, doing her best not to startle the animal, and took deliberate steps backwards toward the sliding door that led back into her bedroom.

The animal trotted forward a few steps and she felt the panic rising in her chest. She moved more hurriedly, but tripped over the large, outdoor rug. This sudden movement seemed to startle it, and it let out a strange howl. She stumbled awkwardly and fell onto her back, and to her horror, the animal began loping straight for her.

She scrambled to her feet as quickly as she could, but the animal was  _fast_ , and in a matter of seconds, it had covered most of the distance between them. She ripped the door open and nearly tripped again over the short stone step. She began to feel a peculiar, dreadful calm as the realization that her chances of being mauled were increasing with each wasted second.

Things seemed to be moving in slow motion, and she turned to see it was nearly upon her. She tried to close the door at the same time that she leapt into a sprint across her bedroom, and realized too late that the door hadn't properly latched. She bolted for the bathroom, and was just across the threshold when the animal latched onto her upper left arm.

Her world dissolved into terror and pain, and she flailed wildly to get it to loosen the grip of its jaws. She kicked it in the face with a glancing blow that startled it enough to release her arm, and she slammed the bathroom door shut in its face and sunk into a sitting position.

She let out a guttural wail and shivered uncontrollably. The animal was scratching frantically at the heavy metal door, and she reached up to engage the bolt and leaned against the sink and began to sob.

After a few seconds, she worked up the courage to examine the damage and nearly fainted. Blood was  _pouring_  out of her arm. Blood was  _everywhere_.

She fought to stay conscious and get to her feet, but she was already seeing black spots in her vision. She leaned against the cupboard that contained their bath towels and ripped out several with her good hand and slumped down onto her hands and knees.

She wrapped up the wreckage of her left arm in two large towels and started to cry pitifully. The animal sounded like it was throwing itself into the door in fury, and unfortunately that door was the only means of escape. She desperately needed medical attention, but her PADD was in the sitting room and Sarek wouldn't be home for hours.

As she approached the edge of unconsciousness, she felt a powerful fear spark deep within her mind, not for herself, but for Sarek. She had no way to warn him.

* * *

"She is out of surgery and should be awake within the hour," the healer explained. "She was fortunate that we retained her particular blood group on file from her previous visit."

Sarek recalled Amanda's prior stay to this hospital: they had both been patients here after they'd sustained severe injuries in an escape from a Romulan warbird that had been commandeered by Terran terrorists.

"You are permitted to visit her, if that is your wish," the healer added.

Sarek nodded and stood to follow the woman to Amanda's recovery room. He felt fortunate that the emergency medical personnel had arrived in time. His decision to return home had been mildly illogical, but knowing the present outcome, it had been correct.

He had been in the middle of a meeting with a senior member of the advisory board when he experienced a strange series of powerful emotions. He instantly suppressed them but recognized that he was sensing Amanda's emotions through their shared bond, but he could not communicate with her telepathically at such a great distance.

He had excused himself from the conversation to call her on her PADD. She hadn't answered, but he soon began to get a vague sense that she was in physical pain, and so he had left the Academy to investigate her situation. Just as he turned the shuttlecar out of the garage, he lost awareness of her consciousness.

It was then that he'd called for an ambulance. He was familiar with the irrational human concept of intuition, but dismissed the notion that the pseudoscientific phenomenon had played a role in his decision. Amanda's consciousness was active and extremely fluid, and he could feel her presence even when she slept. Today had been the first time since they'd established a mating bond that he could not properly feel her, and that void in his consciousness had been unsettling.

When he arrived at their residence, the paramedics had already arrived but were attempting to subdue an aggressive sehlat. Sarek felt a spark of familiarity and immediately identified the animal as his former pet, I-Chaya.

He did not waste time considering how remarkable it was that the sehlat had returned home after all these years, or stop to contemplate why his childhood companion had attacked his mate. What was done was done, and Amanda's situation was critical.

I-Chaya instantly submitted to Sarek's stern tone of voice, and the medical team found Amanda locked in their private bathroom. When they finally forced the door open by burning through the lock, they found her unconscious on the floor from blood loss, and called for an energy transport directly to the hospital.

Though much progress had been made in transporter systems in the past fifty years, their margin for error was still statistically significant enough to be considered unsafe, with approximately one in six thousand transports resulting in death or serious injury. It was used for only the most serious of medical emergencies, which led Sarek to deduce just how critical the situation was.

It had taken him nearly forty minutes to travel back to Shi'Kahr to meet Amanda at the hospital, and it had required moderate effort to suppress his worry for her. Worry was illogical, as it would not affect Amanda's prognosis, but her present condition gave him cause to reflect on how integral she'd become to his life.

He thought of I-Chaya: it was remarkable the old sehlat was still alive. When he had left home to pursue his studies at the Vulcan Science Academy, I-Chaya had remained behind, and from his mother's accounts, he eventually grew less inclined toward domestication and more content to roam the nearby desert for long periods until eventually, he stopped returning to the house altogether.

Sehlats were a curious species. They had never been completely domesticated, and were known for their occasionally aggressive and duplicitous natures. Sehlats were often fiercely loyal to a single individual like several varieties of domestic Terran dogs, but were independent, territorial, and not easily trainable, making them somewhat similar to domestic Terran cats.

Though they were lower life forms, they had a keen sense of understanding, and a number of animal behaviorists had theorized they were capable of rudimentary telepathic linkages with their owners, though such an ability had never formally been proved.

It seemed likely that I-Chaya's motivation for attacking Amanda was territorial, or perhaps that she was unfamiliar. It would be illogical to speculate further about the mind of an animal with which he could not communicate, but it was logical to consider how best to proceed.

" _Sarek_?"

He looked down to see Amanda squinting and tossing her head nervously on the pillow. He reached down and took her forefingers in his, and this contact seemed to calm her. He could see large tears starting to stream from the outer corners of her eyes, and through their bond he could sense confusion and relief in approximately equal proportions.

"What happened?" she finally gasped. "I'm so glad you're ok. That  _monster_ \- what was that? Is it-"

"It is called a sehlat," he interrupted. "His name is I-Chaya, and he was a pet of mine, during my adolescence."

"That  _thing_  was your pet?" she replied in astonishment. "It almost took my arm off."

"That was unfortunate, yes."

"Why didn't you tell me you kept vicious animals?" she hissed. "I feel like that's something I should know. What if it got  _Euclid_?"

"Euclid is safe, and I have put I-Chaya outdoors. I have not seen I-Chaya since my youth, and I did not anticipate ever seeing him again. That he is alive after such a span of time is remarkable."

"You put him  _outdoors_?" she shouted. "You make it sound like you intend to keep him."

"Please lower your voice."

He could sense anger building within her, and he understood she was about to start yelling when a nurse came in to attend to her. Amanda's injuries had been serious, but they had been easily treated, and she was pronounced healthy enough to return home the same afternoon following an additional tri-ox injection.

She didn't speak during their journey home, and Sarek could sense she was still furious, though it was difficult to determine the precise source of her anger. It would be illogical to feel anger toward an animal for acting according to its nature, and equally illogical to feel anger toward him for not warning her of I-Chaya's existence. He  _had_  warned her that many dangerous species existed in the area surrounding their home, and that she should take care to avoid them. She seemed content just to be angry, and for that, he had no solution.

He pulled the shuttlecar around the circular drive in front of their home and saw I-Chaya lying by the entrance to the garage. Amanda stiffened next to him and looked at him imploringly.

He slowly exited the vehicle and walked toward the aging sehlat. I-Chaya raised his head but would not make eye contact. His posture was suggestive of absolute, passive contrition, and he shuffled forward on his belly and gently wagged his tail. Sarek began to believe what had transpired between I-Chaya and Amanda was, at least to I-Chaya, a serious misunderstanding.

The sehlat was clearly in failing health and he felt grateful for the opportunity to see him once more. He would prefer to bring I-Chaya indoors for the animal's comfort, but knew Amanda would flatly refuse. Such refusal would be understandable.

His increased workload had kept him away from home and would likely continue to do so for the foreseeable future, but he wished to find a way to reconcile his old friend to his new wife.

He managed to coax I-Chaya away from the garage door and onto the front porch of the house. When he reentered the shuttlecar to drive it down into the house's underground garage, he could perceive a strong feeling of betrayal in Amanda.

"Amanda, please, try to-"

"No, I get it. Your pet monster mauls me and I'm supposed to be fine with it. It wasn't  _his_  fault. It was probably  _mine_."

"I did not say that," Sarek argued.

"You didn't have to," she snapped.

He could hear from the pitch of her voice that she was on the verge of tears, and she tore the door open and got out before the shuttlecar came to a complete stop. He parked and followed her up the stairs into the back entry of the house. The house was quite a bit warmer than it had been when he left, and he wondered if the environmental controls were properly functioning.

"Amanda, what happened was regrettable," he began.

She stopped and turned to face him, and he could see her face was already red from crying.

" _Moving here was regrettable_ ," she said.

Her own words seemed to startle her, and she turned to continue walking away. Sarek knew it would be illogical to follow after her while she was so emotional. He turned to walk into the kitchen instead when something caught his eye.

He saw a blue flash in his peripheral vision, and quickly realized he had made a grave error in failing to secure the doors to the house before he'd left for the hospital. That was why it was so warm inside the house: I-Chaya had entered through the outdoor entry to their bedroom, and that door was almost certainly still open.

"Amanda,  _stop_ ," he said firmly.

She ignored him and kept walking, and before he could properly warn her, she stepped on the small k'karee and screamed in agony.

A k'karee was a venomous snake that preferred to take shelter from the heat of the Vulcan sun under rocks. It was unsurprising that one would have found its way into the house, seeking the cooler climate provided by the environmental control system.

A bite from a k'karee was not usually fatal to Vulcans, though it caused significant pain and could cause permanent paralysis if not immediately treated. He had no way to predict how k'karee venom would affect a human's biochemistry, however, and quickly suppressed a burgeoning fear growing from somewhere deep within his mind.

Amanda continued to scream and writhe in pain on the floor, and he saw the blue-gray snake disappear under the long bench in the hallway. He grabbed his PADD to call for medical assistance for the second time that day, and then rushed to her side.

" _Is there anything on this awful planet that doesn't want me dead_?" she shrieked.

"Amanda, try to calm down and breathe normally," he urged.

Her face was beginning to turn an unusual shade of white and she started to tremble violently. She clutched at his shirt and took several ragged breaths.

"I hate it here," she gasped. "I want to go home."


	3. Fluffy Things

**February, 2228**

Amanda stretched and wiped sweat from her brow. Being cooped up in a house all day was boring, but being confined to a bed all day felt like torture.

She had spent most of the night in the hospital following the k'karee bite. Sarek had stayed with her, and even though she was frustrated, she was glad for his company. They'd spent more time together because of her injuries than they had in the entire time that they'd lived on Vulcan.

The healers had managed to synthesize an antivenin for the snakebite, but it had caused slight, temporary paralysis in her right foot. They had given her medication to stimulate nerve growth, but that had made her foot swell and caused her to be violently sick. They had sent her home several hours earlier, and she'd been in misery ever since.

She knew her physical and emotional states were taking a slight toll on her husband, and he'd offered to stay with her. She desperately wanted his company, but she also knew there was nothing his presence would do to make her feel better, and the Vulcan Science Academy was extremely busy this time of year.

She also felt a bit embarrassed by her emotional breakdown the afternoon before, and she hadn't apologized yet. None of this was directly his fault. She badly wanted to go back to Earth, but she had only been here five days, and she knew the boredom and loneliness couldn't last forever.

She saw movement out of the corner of her eye and flinched. The sehlat had refused to go away, and was now resting on the patio by the bedroom door. The thing was enormous, and the memory of its long teeth sinking into her arm was terrifyingly fresh.

A small part of her couldn't help but feel sorry for it. It was blazing hot outside, and the sehlat was lying on its side and breathing raggedly. She wondered why it didn't seek out some shady spot to lie in during the early afternoon heat, and wondered if it might be sick. Sarek had explained that they were territorial creatures and extremely protective of their owners, and she also realized that maybe it was waiting for Sarek to come home.

Still, it was hot outside, and the poor thing didn't even have any water. The thought of going out there wasn't very appealing, but she also felt horrible watching it suffer. She continued to observe the sehlat for another few minutes until she couldn't take it anymore.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and paused for the wave of nausea to pass. Her head ached terribly, and she still felt shaky from the effects of the medication. She stood and gasped: bearing any weight on her right foot made it feel like it was on  _fire_.

It took her some time and cost her a few well chosen swear words, but she hobbled into the kitchen, found a metal mixing bowl, and filled it with cool water. She managed to make it back down the hallway to the bedroom without spilling too much, and then waited anxiously at the door.

The sehlat was  _so_  big. It was facing away from her, and she took the opportunity to observe it closer. Its fur was a tawny shade of brown and quite thick, and might have been soft and fluffy if it weren't matted and choked with burrs. The animal looked thin, and she reasoned it must have had a rough life out in the desert.

Why had it come back home after all these years?

She waited a few more moments to work up the courage to approach it, and then she nervously tapped on the glass. The sehlat didn't move.

She held her breath and inched the sliding door open, and still, the large animal remained motionless aside from its heavy panting.

"Hello?" she asked.

She felt a bit stupid. Of course the sehlat wasn't going to answer, but she wondered what kind of actions might startle it. It still didn't move.

Her heart started beating faster and she opened the door just wide enough to put the bowl out and quickly shut it. They sehlat  _still_  didn't move.

She started to feel worried for the pitiful creature. It looked sad and defeated.

His name was I-Chaya, if she remembered Sarek correctly.

_I-Chaya the sehlat._

Against her better judgment, she pulled the door back open a few centimeters and softly said, "I-Chaya?"

The sehlat sat up and looked mournfully at her, and then at the bowl of water. His face was mottled with gray, but she thought he might have almost looked cute, were it not for the yellowed, cracked fangs protruding from his mouth. She knew she was probably anthropomorphizing her own feelings onto him, but something about his expression broke her heart.

They watched each other for a few moments, and I-Chaya bowed his head, sunk down onto his belly, and began to crawl toward the water dish. He seemed to be very wary of her, but not in a threatening or aggressive way.

She resisted the urge to pet him, and simply stood and watched as he passively edged towards the bowl and took deep laps of the water. His long teeth made drinking from the shallow bowl difficult, and he spilled most of it in his efforts. He licked the remainder of the moisture from the bottom of the bowl and looked at her.

His expression was doleful, and she felt herself starting to get emotional. Despite her trepidation, she reached for the bowl to refill it, and I-Chaya inched his nose forward to smell her. She pulled her hand back in fear, and the sehlat rested his head on the ground in submission.

She reached outward again, but instead of collecting the bowl, she gently rested her hand on I-Chaya's rounded snout. His ears pricked slightly and his eyes darted between her hand and her face, and she felt a powerful sense of sorrow radiating from him. She began to feel tears forming in her eyes.

"Well, I guess you'd better come inside," she sniffed.

She stood and opened the door more widely, and I-Chaya sat up on his haunches, but his head still hung low in shame and regret. She crouched down uncomfortably to try to urge him inside, but Euclid darted between her legs and she panicked.

I-Chaya's ears snapped forward to attention and he scrambled to his feet, and Euclid arched his back and hissed. She held her breath for an agonizing half second, and then Euclid did the unthinkable. He relaxed his body and strode calmly up to the sehlat and brushed his body against the I-Chaya's forelegs.

I-Chaya carefully lowered his head to sniff the much smaller cat, then flopped down to nuzzle Euclid's face. Amanda uttered an unexpected laugh, which she immediately stifled to avoid spooking either animal. She watched them for a few minutes as they continued to sniff and lick one another in curiosity, and eventually she managed to coax them inside.

The sehlat was filthy and smelled awful, and she wondered if it would be safe to give him a bath. Euclid darted out of the room and the I-Chaya followed, and she limped after them in agony. By the time she arrived in the kitchen, the sehlat had eaten the entire bowl of cat food and was furiously licking the bottom of the tiny dish, inadvertently pushing it all around the kitchen floor.

She couldn't help but laugh as she grabbed her PADD and did a bit of preliminary research on the care of domestic sehlats. They were strict carnivores, but she figured out how to use the food replicator unit in the kitchen to synthesize a sort of meat paste one veterinary page recommended.

She fed him a small amount, worried that overfeeding him such rich food when he wasn't used to it would make him sick, but he seemed to enjoy it, and licked the grease from her fingers when he'd finished.

She herded him toward the guest bathroom in the main hall, wondering how well this would work. Vulcans didn't use water-based systems for bathing; rather, they had a system that used pulse vibrations to vaporize dirt. She was only just getting used to the sonic showers herself, and wondered how well I-Chaya might handle it.

Halfway down the hall, a misstep caused her to bear too much weight on her right foot and she screeched and reached for the wall to catch herself. I-Chaya leapt forward and she caught her balance by grabbing his thick coat.

"Thanks," she said.

She couldn't explain why she felt the urge to talk to him, or why it felt like he understood her. It seemed loneliness was more complex than she knew. I-Chaya waited patiently for her to steady herself enough to begin walking again, and she led him toward the large sonic shower stall.

He willingly went into the bathroom, but flatly refused to enter the stall.

"You're not staying in this house smelling like that," she said, placing her hands on her hips.

She knew it was crazy to talk to him like he understood what she was saying, but there was an obvious intelligence in his eyes that was almost haunting.

" _I-Chaya_?"

I-Chaya sat down in defiance, and she raised her eyebrows in challenge. He lowered his head, and after a few moments of staring at one another, he reluctantly slinked the shower. Euclid entered the bathroom and lie down next to the glass door of the shower and to watch.

"Don't be mean and come in here to make fun of him," she told the cat. "I can give you a bath just as easily."

She engaged the pulses on low, and I-Chaya began to howl. She turned the shower off in alarm, thinking he was in pain, but he looked at her and cocked his head. She cautiously turned it back on, and realized he seemed to be  _enjoying_  it.

It took nearly an hour of working at his coat with a metal comb to pick the burrs out, and in a few places she was forced to cut large swatches of hair out with scissors because of severe matting, but the end result was a much better looking, very soft sehlat.

She took her time cleaning up the mass of ratty fur from the floor, and when she was done, she limped into the kitchen for a light lunch. She fed I-Chaya another bit of meat paste and refilled Euclid's food bowl.

For the first time since she'd moved to Vulcan, she felt a fleeting sense of contentment. She was quite tired from the side effects of the medication for the snakebite, and the heat of the early afternoon brought on a languid drowsiness. She shuffled back to the bedroom for a nap, and Euclid and I-Chaya followed.

She lie down on the large bed and quickly began to doze, but she was soon disturbed by a large, wet nose on her arm. Without rolling over to look at him, she gently stroked his snout and smiled.

They might have gotten off on the wrong foot, or perhaps paw, but she knew she had just made her first Vulcan friend.

* * *

Sarek entered his house and surveyed the living room: it was unusual to be home during daylight hours. He'd left the Academy early, wishing to honor the human custom of the "weekend" for Amanda's sake. He knew she was experiencing profound loneliness, and given the events of yesterday, he knew she still physically and emotionally quite fragile.

The house was quiet. Euclid typically greeted him at the door, but was nowhere to be seen. I-Chaya had also been sleeping on the front entryway to the house when he'd left earlier that morning, but he too was missing.

The relaxed state of Amanda's consciousness suggested she was sleeping, so he quietly removed his shoes and made his way to the bedroom to check on her, and was startled by what he found.

I-Chaya was lying on their spacious bed with Amanda nestled against his back. Euclid was curled up on the sehlat's flank, facing the opposite wall and with his head tucked under his paw. Sarek was uncertain how to proceed.

He was reluctant to disturb them, so he carefully sat down on his side of the bed. When he reached forward to stroke Amanda's hair from her face, I-Chaya raised his head and curled his lip slightly.

The old sehlat was still full of surprises. Sarek stared at him in challenge but did not retract his hand, and I-Chaya settled back down to a resting position, but he could sense the animal was still apprehensive.

He greatly disliked the idea of having animals on the bed where they slept, but he was aware Euclid had often slept in Amanda's bed on Earth. In his youth, I-Chaya had usually slept out of doors, weather permitting, since sehlats tended to hunt during twilight hours. Even when he  _had_  slept inside, the animal had never shared his bed. Sarek did not wish for this to become habitual, but was willing to make the concession for this evening, as Amanda seemed so at ease in her sleep.

He lie down next to her on his elbow and observed the slight twitches of her face. She appeared to be dreaming, and he was tempted to meld his mind to hers and discover the content of the imagery. He refrained, respecting the fact that even though she was his wife, she was still entitled to privacy and hadn't consented to the meld.

He traced his fingers over her forehead instead, feeling the moisture of her perspiration. He considered turning down the environmental controls another few degrees when her eyes fluttered open.

She smiled and stretched.

"I'm  _roasting_ ," she yawned.

She turned her head to see I-Chaya lying behind her and began to push against his massive body.

"Get  _down_ , you big oaf," she said.

I-Chaya complied with a measure of reluctance, and Euclid, who had been sleeping on his hip, hissed in discontent when he gracelessly fell from I-Chaya to the floor.

"It is fascinating that you seem to have forged a friendship with an animal that nearly killed you yesterday," he remarked.

"Fascinating?" she murmured through another yawn.

"Yes."

She sat up and stretched and looked out the window.

"It's still light outside. Why are you home?" she asked.

"I returned to ensure you were well."

She gave him a stern look, and then smiled.

"I'm not going to argue," she admitted. "It's good to see you."

"How are you feeling?"

She reached down to massage her foot and winced.

"I've been better, I guess, but I've also been worse. My head is pounding, my foot is still twice the size it should be, and I'm so thirsty I would probably drink from the cat's water bowl, but I'm happy to see you."

"One moment," he said, rising from the bed to head for the kitchen.

He collected a glass of water and one of the autoinjector hyposprays the healer had prescribed for edema, and returned to her.

He could sense her surprise and affection, and her expression softened as she said, "Thank you. That's very sweet of you."

"It was logical," he replied. "You complained of ailments that were within my control to rectify."

"Well, thank you for so  _logically_  taking care of me," she said, taking the glass of water and drinking the whole of its contents. "And thank you for coming home early."

"I am aware this relocation has been difficult for you," he said.

Amanda's body stiffened, and she chewed on her bottom lip.

"I didn't think it would be  _easy_ ," she admitted. "And I'm sorry for what I said yesterday. I  _am_  homesick, and a big part of me  _does_  want to go back to Earth, but I haven't even been here a full week, and that would be giving up too easily."

He had considered the possibility that she would insist upon returning to Earth. He was due to visit the planet quarterly, and though he would prefer not to be separated from her for such long periods, he was willing to discuss the option with her.

"We've only been married six months," she said.

The look on her face told him she was sensing his thoughts, and he replied, "I do not wish to be apart from you, but nor do I wish for you to be discontented."

"Call it a paradox," she replied with a shrug. "I can probably  _learn_  to be happy here, but I already know from experience that it's pretty hard to be happy without you. Anyway, are you hungry?"

He was, and so he helped her to the kitchen to eat a light meal of leftover Farr-khali. I-Chaya followed her closely, and when she sat down at the dining table, he sat by her feet. It was curious that his old sehlat's loyalties had shifted so greatly in the span of a day.

"How did you manage to befriend him?" Sarek asked.

"It's amazing what a bowl of water and a little kindness can buy," she grinned, looking underneath the table to I-Chaya.

There were many parts of humanity that were difficult to comprehend, and though he shared a strong bond with Amanda, there were pieces of his wife that he felt he would never adequately understand. That she could feel compassion for an animal that had gravely injured her was remarkable, but that she could inspire so much trust in return was even more so.

"I guess I should have asked if you minded having him in the house," she added. "But it's been nice having him around today."

"I am pleased you have forgiven him, and equally pleased that he has accepted you," Sarek admitted. "He was a close companion to me as a child, and I hope that he can be again."

"Having him in the house today made me forget to be lonely."

"That is another matter I wish to discuss with you," he began. "It is not my wish for you to be alone each day. I believe it would be appropriate to employ a small staff, and provide you with transportation."

"Like a cook and a driver?" she asked, furrowing her eyebrows and looking down at her food.

"It was merely a suggestion."

"I don't know," she mused. "I've just never had anyone do things for me like that. It's not like I have much else to do besides cook and clean. So on the one hand, I want to say no, but on the other hand, it would be nice to see people outside of my frequent trips to the emergency room. Now that I say it out loud, I realize how  _weird_  that is: it would be like we're hiring people to keep me company.  _I don't know_."

"I simply propose it as an option for you to consider. It is certain that I will inevitably travel, and it is my hope that you will be able to accompany me. Therefore, it would be necessary to keep a staff to maintain the estate in our absence."

"I  _guess_ ," she shrugged.

He decided to let the matter rest for the time being, owing to the amount of obvious discomfort the discussion was causing her.

"Should you find your health has improved by the morning, there is a place I would like to visit with you," he said.

"Aren't you going to the Academy tomorrow?"

"My presence is not required until the late afternoon," he explained.

She chuckled to herself and said, "You're full of pleasant surprises tonight. So where do you want to go?"

* * *

"Wait,  _what_  is this called?" she asked, leaning closer to the invisible force field.

"A shatarr," Sarek replied.

"I'm going to guess like everything else, it's  _poisonous_."

"You assume correctly."

Amanda skimmed the informational placard. It was written both in Vuhlkansu and Federation Standard, but she was enjoying the opportunity to flex her growing language skills in a practical setting. Her finger traced the vertical text on the sign, and halfway through, she stopped and looked at him.

"This thing can grow up to two  _meters_? Did I read that right?"

"I believe it is rare for them to grow so large outside of captivity, but larger ones have been known to attack Vulcan adults. Such behavior is likely done out of fear and not out of predation."

"How can you know that?"

"They never eat the remains," he explained.

"Oh, well that's  _thoughtful_  of them," Amanda joked. "You know, no hard feelings."

They walked further down the wide path in silence, but she felt at ease. They had risen early that morning to visit a local conservancy on the other side of Shi'Kahr. Her foot still hurt quite a bit, but she stuffed it into her shoe without complaint, grateful for the chance to spend some time with her husband.

Their excursion was proving to be fun, interesting, and practical. The conservancy was responsible for rehabilitating sick and injured animals indigenous to the region, as well as monitoring local populations of a number of threatened species.

He had viewed it as an opportunity to better familiarize her with the fauna she might potentially encounter in the area surrounding their home, and she had viewed it as a chance to cure her severe cabin fever.

"Does this area have any, you know, cute and fluffy animals?" she asked as they walked past the enclosure of a shockingly large snake-like animal called a pandree.

"Specify."

"Are there any life forms that aren't sporting poisonous sacs or ten-centimeter long spikes, claws, horns, or fangs? Something similar to squirrels or bunnies? Something  _cuddly_?"

"The region surrounding Shi'Kahr is quite harsh, and most of the features present in the species you see are necessary for their survival."

"Well,  _sure_ , I was just wondering if millions of years of natural selection had produced anything that didn't look quite so terrifying."

"Your cat possesses both sharp claws and teeth, but you do not seem to be afraid of him."

"Euclid is-"

She had been about to argue that her cat was different, but she paused and glanced at her husband under the brim of her wide hat instead. One of her favorite things about Sarek was his ability to encourage her to think more critically, and she appreciated that he encouraged her to defend her arguments with logic rather than feelings. As tedious and joyless as his philosophy often seemed, she couldn't deny that it had its merits.

"Euclid is?" he insisted.

"Euclid is a  _cat_ ," she answered.

"An obvious assertion."

"That is all," she said, biting her lip to hide a smile.

"Fascinating," Sarek mused. "I might have argued that he belonged to a long domesticated species, and thus could be claimed to be less threatening than wild species with similar features."

Resisting the urge to grin was growing more difficult.

"So much for trying to outfox a fox," she said, walking slightly ahead of him to enter a long building with a low roof.

He held the door so she could enter and replied, "I am unfamiliar with that turn of phrase."

She took off her hat and tried to catch her breath in the stifling heat of the building. It had been hot outside, but a moderate breeze had made it almost tolerable.

"It was silly to try and argue with someone so skilled in debating," she explained. "Tell me this though: if Euclid can be generally considered safe because of domestication, and these animals are unsafe because they are wild, what about I-Chaya? Or even what about Euclid? Both lived as wild animals for long periods of time."

"Your question is a matter of degrees," he replied. "What are the criteria for determining an animal as safe?"

"I-Chaya almost killed me the day before yesterday," she thought aloud.

"And Euclid scratched you once, when you forcibly removed him from the curtains."

"There's a difference between intent to cause harm and the ability to do so."

"Is there?"

" _Isn't_ there?"

"I am asking you," Sarek replied.

Amanda began to sense she was walking into a trap and stopped in front a large glass enclosure. The room was dimly lit, and she surveyed a number of dirt mounds looking for some sign of movement.

"Everything has the capacity to be dangerous," she said, trying to conceal the exasperation in her tone. "Even people. Maybe  _especially_  people."

"On that point, I agree."

She saw a small rodent-like head emerge from one of the mounds and look around inquisitively. It reminded her of a large, rust-colored prairie dog.

"See,  _that's_  cuddly," she said, pointing to the animal through the glass.

"That is a valit," he said. "They are primarily nocturnal and quite common in Vulcan's Forge. There once was a small colony near our home, but I am uncertain if it still exists."

"They're  _adorable_ ," she said, leaning closer to the glass to get a better look.

She was startled when the animal leapt nearly half a meter out of its hole and smacked a short, broad tail on the ground. It revealed a set of very long, retractable claws, and soon it was engaged in a fierce and bloody fight with another valit.

"The males are also very aggressive during mating season," Sarek explained..

Amanda slowly turned to look at her husband and uttered a small sigh.

"I believe it was  _your_  conclusion that everything has the capacity to be dangerous," he added.

"I guess sometimes I hate it when I'm right," she moaned, wiping beads of sweat from her forehead into the loose sleeve of her blouse.

"You appear to be overheating: we should return home."

She gave a sidelong glance back to the dueling valits and recoiled at the sight of one rabidly slashing at the throat of the other.

"She must be one hell of a lady valit to be worth killing for," Amanda said.

"The best mates often are."

Amanda looked at her husband in shock: that had been the most un-Vulcan thing she could ever recall him saying. She immediately remembered they were in public, and though there was no one in the immediate vicinity, she tried to neutralize her facial expression.

"Are you ready to depart?"

She didn't want to leave, because she knew Sarek had to go into the Academy later in the day, and she had really hoped to make the most of their limited time together. She was about to protest when he took the fingers of her left hand in ozh'esta.

" _My presence at the Academy is not required for approximately another four hours_ ," he said telepathically.

The warm, pleasant sensation running up her hand nearly made her blush, but she tried to push the thought away.

" _It appears we are of one mind_ ," Sarek added.

She looked into his dark eyes and noted the subtle presence of something – not quite emotional, but something more  _primal_. She blushed more deeply: they had not been intimate with one another since they'd moved to Vulcan.

She cleared her throat and replied as causally as she could manage, "Sure, we can go."


	4. Breaking Out

**March 2228**

"What do you think?"

I-Chaya looked up at her with his disinterested brown eyes.

"I guess that's what I get for taking fashion advice from a sehlat."

She frowned and turned to examine herself in the mirror again. Today marked a full month of living on Vulcan, and was also her first foray into formal Vulcan society.

Sarek had been invited to a state dinner to honor First Minister Sevek's time in office, and as Sarek's wife, she would be expected to attend. She'd gotten reasonably good at managing these kinds of events back on Earth, but this was different.

On Earth, the crowds had been mostly comprised of humans, or at least other species well accustomed to dealing with humans and Terran customs. Things had been easier on her home turf, but she was definitely the outsider now.

She looked beautiful, or at least she _thought_ so. She had agonized over the decision on what to wear for days. She'd accrued a fair amount of formal clothing from attending so many galas, conferences, and banquets when they lived on Earth. They'd even once attended a ball in honor of the Andorian quadricentennial, and she was grateful for the fact that her husband didn't dance, because the best she'd ever managed was a box step.

She was certain there would be no dancing tonight, but that didn't make choosing suitable clothing any less difficult. She had tried asking Sarek what would be appropriate for such a function, but he hadn't been much help, other than to tell her to avoid revealing too much of her skin.

When she'd tried to research it on her PADD using Vulcan's cultural databases, she wasn't surprised to learn that Vulcan didn't have a booming fashion industry, and therefore news media containing fashion advice columns was non-existent. She had found a few informational brochures on what Vulcans should _not_ wear when visiting other planets that had been both hilarious and educational.

The one she found about Earth had been particularly eye opening.

" _Like Vulcans, human styles of dress may vary depending on occasion, profession, and even time of day._ _Humans are highly selective in their choice of clothing, choosing garments for all manner of reasons, including comfort, creativity, disguise, protection, social or sexual display, personal identity, and group affiliation._

 _Many human females will use cosmetics as a means of exaggerating facial neoteny and creating the perception of being in estrus to better attract male members of the species, which is often reinforced by donning clothing which reveals large sections of skin on the legs, arms, and mammary organs. Coloring of the fingernails is also common for females_."

She had laughed until her sides hurt and she had tears streaming down her cheeks. Sarek had never seen her wear makeup, and she wondered what he would do if he came home to her dressed like an Avant-garde fashion model. No doubt he had read the same guide or something similar during his briefings on Earth prior to becoming an ambassador. Would he think she was… in estrus? In _heat_?

He would probably – and for good reason – think she had lost her mind.

She had never really seen the point in makeup: the last time she could remember wearing it had been at her undergraduate graduation when her mother had all but held her down to apply eye shadow and lipstick.

Amanda had been blessed with long, thick, dark lashes, well-shaped eyebrows, and clear skin, excepting a dusting of freckles on her nose. She had always liked her natural features, and felt like some kind of imposter in makeup.

The guide had been somewhat helpful for unintended reasons. She felt determined to dress reservedly and avoid being a stereotype. _Not that she'd planned on wearing a short skirt with a kilo of makeup anyway._

She had decided when she moved that she didn't really want to adopt the traditional style of dress for Vulcan women. Sarek hadn't started wearing modern Terran business suits when he took up office on Earth, and she didn't want to alter her cultural identity just because she'd gotten married.

Sarek often told her to "be as you are," and she had eventually come to accept that. She had married _Sarek_ , not his culture. While she was happy to embrace many new Vulcan things, she didn't want to stop being a Terran woman either.

So that was how she'd chosen this particular formal evening gown: it was floor length, a-line, and charcoal gray with a boat neck and sleeves that went to her elbow. The skirt was covered in a sheer swath of black fabric that gave it a more dimensional texture. It was certainly more mature than what most women her age might wear back home, but it seemed like the best option available to her as a human female attending a Vulcan formal state banquet.

The rest of her appearance had been easier to manage. She'd loosely braided the left side of her hair and gathered it into a low, neat bun. She wore the brilliant opal pendant her father had left to her in his will, and a pair black beaded earrings.

She continued to examine the final product in the long hall mirror before her; no one would call her _radiant_ , exactly, but she did look polished and beautiful. What she really wanted was to find a way to dust off the layer of insecurity, but the only solution for that was experience.

"Are you ready to depart?"

"Um hmmm," she replied, chewing on her lip and turning to follow her husband down into the garage.

Sarek looked much like he always did, though he wore a long, sleeveless mantle style cloak that she understood was common for Vulcan formalwear.

"Your appearance is quite suitable," he said.

She almost smiled but was able to keep it at bay, thanks to weeks of practice in controlling her facial features. Though she wouldn't call herself vain, Sarek was not often given to compliments, and the fact that he seemed to think she'd dressed well enough for this occasion went a long way towards boosting her confidence.

They were quiet on the drive into Shi'Kahr, and Amanda took advantage of the time to review her recent studies on Vulcan politics. The planet had recently held elections, and she had spent the past week reviewing a dossier of notable public figures.

She didn't feel that confident.

Vulcan's First Minister Soren had served his third term, which she'd learned was the maximum time an individual could hold that office under Vulcan's Constitution without a referendum by which two-thirds of voters could allow him to seek a subsequent term. According to her research, Soren had been a popular figure and likely could have gotten the needed votes to seek a fourth term of office, but he'd declined without explanation.

The new First Minister would be Sorel, who had been the previous Vulcan Minister of State, and the new Minister of State would be a man named Sorek, who had been head of the Ministry of… _Information_?

She felt overwhelmed. _Soren. Sorel. Sorek._

Homogeneous naming conventions weren't her only problem: she hadn't been able to visually identify many people from their pictures in her dossier with any real accuracy. Excepting gender, age, and slight differences in skin color, most Vulcans looked a _lot_ alike with their similar haircuts, long faces, and angular features.

There were a few who stood out. Councilwoman T'Lona and Minister T'Lana from the Ministry of Science both had blue eyes, which was a rare feature among Vulcans. Or was it Minister T'Lona and Councilwoman T'Lana?

She couldn't shake the feeling that this was going to be a disaster.

"Your mind is very quiet," Sarek said.

" _Oh_."

She had come a long way in managing the outward flow of her thoughts and emotions. The idea of Vulcan bonding had been very romantic at first, and there were many times she still loved the closeness of it, but in daily life, it often got exasperating being so exposed, even to her husband. There had been many embarrassing occasions in the later days of their courtship and earliest days of their marriage that Sarek had inadvertently stumbled upon some private thought or memory.

Right now, she didn't want him knowing how nervous she really was. She looked at him, extended her fingers to his, and allowed the feeling of ozh'esta to calm her.

"You are anxious," he said.

"Why do you think that?"

"You have learned how to seal off your thoughts with passable success, but your emotions run much more deeply."

The vehicle pulled into a wide circular driveway and a valet emerged from a small building to ferry it to a parking garage. She took a deep breath and bit her lip.

They walked up a wide drive toward a towering, ancient building in the heart of the city. Aerial train tracks and walkways wound in artistic circles over their heads.

"This building is beautiful, and looks very old," she said.

"It is called the 'Feretaya,'" he explaned.

"The assembly?"

"Precisely. It is the place in which both branches of the legislative assembly convene. The building has stood for more than two thousand years."

"Is that a credit to your architects or your maintenance people?" she teased.

"Both, I would imagine."

They began to pass small groups of people socializing outside. Sarek nodded to many of them but spoke to no one. Amanda could almost feel their eyes burning into her soul, but forced herself into a picture of outward calm. She relaxed the muscles of her face and prayed she wouldn't make any serious missteps or untoward comments.

They entered a long, relatively narrow hallway with a high ceiling that arched upward sharply. The first thing she noticed was the quiet. There were about three hundred Vulcans milling about, and many were holding conversations, but it was so… _restrained_.

She didn't know what she had expected, but what she was witnessing made a lot of sense. Human gatherings of this size were always utter chaos, replete with shouting over large groups, elbowing through thick crowds, and blustery, drunken soliloquys by beverage tables.

Yet here, groups were formed near the walls in an orderly fashion, allowing for the maximization of personal space and a clear path for anyone who wanted to traverse the room with ease. Vulcans even _mingled_ logically. She might have laughed if she weren't so confused.

Her eyes scanned the room, noting a handful of outliers among the populace. The crowd wasn't _entirely_ Vulcan: there were dignitaries from other planets, including at least two other humans.

They weren't ten steps into the room before an elderly Vulcan who appeared to be speaking on behalf of another positively decrepit Vulcan approached Sarek. She stepped back half a pace to Sarek's left, as was appropriate for the party not being addressed, and she watched their customary greetings to one another with subtle fascination. The old Vulcan deferred to the even older Vulcan, who then stepped forward and repeated all the same salutations.

His voice was raspy and his accent was clipped, which she knew was common of Vulcan speech patterns from the far Southern hemisphere of the planet. They spoke so quickly that she struggled to follow the conversation. Her Vuhlkansu had improved steadily since she'd met Sarek, but she was still a long way from speaking so effortlessly.

She was able to discern that his name was Tavik, and from her research and a little context, she reasoned he had to be former First Minister Tavik.

Sarek raised his left arm at the elbow and extended his two forefingers back toward her, which she knew indicated that her husband intended to formally introduce her to Tavik. She joined the forefingers of her right hand to his, stepped forward, and waited for the older Vulcan to acknowledge her.

"Your presence honors us, Amanda, wife of Sarek," he wheezed in choppy, Federation Standard.

Studying had been boring, but she was immediately grateful she had, because she not only knew who he was, but the proper way in which to address a person of his former position.

"It is an honor to be welcomed, Minister Tavik," she replied with added articulation.

He nodded to her faintly, and she returned a slightly deeper nod. Tavik turned back to the other Vulcan, and he and Sarek exchanged goodbyes.

They performed this ritual with nearly a three dozen other people of the course of the next hour, and each time the procedures would change slightly. She was quickly forming the idea that a formal function on Vulcan was little more than a series of nods, salutes, bows, and specific lines to deliver that varied by rank and position, all choreographed by the unwritten rules of a society with which she was obviously unfamiliar.

She had spent hours studying it all: when to nod, when to salute, where to stand, when to speak. It was one thing to read about it, and another to put it into practice. She hoped she was getting all the nuances correct enough to avoid embarrassment.

They fell into a routine, and the more Amanda was cordially received, the more relaxed she became. She knew she would never remember all of the people she'd been introduced to, but hoped that her husband would jog her memory if necessary.

She was beginning to edge into boredom when Sarek reached her mind to say, " _We have finished our obligatory greetings_."

" _Now what_?"

" _I would like to speak to Councilman Tos, and I regret to say I must do so in private_."

She felt a surge of panic, and then felt ridiculous. She was an adult, but on the inside she felt like a little girl clinging to her mother's hand on the first day of grammar school.

" _I shall not take long_ ," he added. " _When I return, perhaps we might tour the gardens."_

" _That's fine_ ," she replied telepathically, trying to mold her face into something that looked both brave and neutral.

She watched Sarek leave toward a darker corner of the room to the rear of the hall, and she noted that she was the only person standing by herself, and wondered if that was some kind of social deviancy. Surely Sarek wouldn't have left her alone if it were?

All of the rules she knew for engaging strangers in conversation were completely invalid here, and for the first time, she realized how terrifying that really was. She couldn't just keep her ears tuned for an easy-to-join discussion, stroll up with a big grin, and toss out her opinion like she would at home. Yet the longer she remained alone, the more conspicuous she felt.

"It is nice to see such a lovely lady here tonight," said a male voice behind her with a mild Australian accent.

 _Relief_.

She saw to her left an average-looking human man with olive skin and dark hair flecked with gray. She had identified him when they walked in, but didn't know who he was. He boldly extended his right hand and announced, "Ambassador Geoffrey Clare. I believe you're Amanda?"

A thin smile snuck onto her face as she accepted his handshake and nodded.

"It's ok; you can smile. I won't tell anyone," he grinned.

She looked around at the crowd of people and wondered at his brazen display of emotion. She knew him by name: he was the Terran ambassador to Vulcan. She'd met one of his staff nearly two years ago during her stay in a Vulcan hospital.

"How are you, ambassador?"

"Oh, you know, dressed up in this penguin suit and sweaty: about like any formal event on Vulcan. How are you getting along here?"

"Here on Vulcan or here at this dinner?"

"Either."

"I've been on Vulcan for a month now, and I guess I'm getting used to it. I've been here for about an hour, and also getting used to it."

"I've been at this posting for almost two years now," he explained. "It certainly took a while to get used to this planet, but it's grown on me. Have you visited many places?"

"No, not really. I haven't gotten out much. I'm still trying to meet people, but it's been a bit of a challenge."

Over his shoulder she was surprised to see a familiar face looking at her. Tolek had been her senior supervisor on the Universal Translator project, and he was speaking to an older woman who looked familiar. _Councilwoman T'Lona, perhaps?_

"- you'll find they're really welcoming."

She instinctively blushed as she realized she'd tuned Ambassador Clare out, but she was beginning to feel uncomfortable with the way Tolek and the woman were glancing at her.

"I'm so sorry, my mind is wandering," she admitted.

"That's ok. Happens to the best of us," he replied.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the two Vulcans approaching, and she turned her body and took a half step back to Ambassador Clare's left to yield the speaking position to him. He glanced over his shoulder and moved to greet them, but Tolek said, "Amanda Grayson, may you live long and prosper."

She looked at the ambassador with some surprise, since normally it was customary for the junior person of one group to greet the most senior person of a second group. If she remembered her formal etiquette correctly, that meant they wished to have a private word with her.

"It was lovely to meet you," Ambassador Clare said, turning to Amanda to offer her a warm handshake. "Maybe we could talk more again later."

"Uh- sure," she replied, shaking his hand and feeling self-conscious about her sweaty palms.

She turned back to Tolek and tried to remember what to say next. They already knew each other, but she didn't know the woman, so she needed to wait to be formally introduced before speaking to her. _Vulcans and their irritating dog and pony shows._

"Yes, live long and prosper," she replied to Tolek.

He was technically her former boss, but she really didn't know him that well. Aside from her initial interview, she didn't think she'd had more than a dozen conversations with the man in the eighteen months she'd worked on the project. He motioned for the woman to step forward.

"Councilwoman T'Lona," he said deferentially, taking a half step back.

"Amanda," she said, bowing her head.

Amanda returned the bow, and after several more tedious social interactions, Councilwoman T'Lona got to the point.

"Tolek tells me that you performed admirably on the Universal Translator."

"I was glad to be of service and grateful for the opportunity he provided."

"I understand you primarily worked with the Romulan language," the councilwoman said.

"I volunteered on the project for nearly a year before being formally hired, so I also worked with many Tellarite dialects."

"I also understand you have a background in education."

"Yes, I taught at the diplomatic school at the Federation embassy complex and very briefly taught at a university before relocating to Vulcan."

"I would like to meet with you privately to discuss your experience in more detail, though I do not believe this setting is appropriate."

It took all the skill she had to keep her jaw from falling to the floor. Why should a member of the Vulcan High Council even know who she was, let alone take an interest in her? She glanced at Tolek, but his placid face offered no clues. She wondered what exactly she was supposed to say. She obviously couldn't refuse this powerful woman's request, but what was the proper protocol for accepting?

"Did you have a time and location in mind?"

"I shall be very busy in the coming days, but I shall have Tolek contact you to schedule a meeting."

She felt a ripple through her consciousness and she could sense Sarek approaching, and seconds later, he appeared at her left side. Though the left side was where the more junior person was supposed to stand, it was also the appropriate side for which an individual could interrupt a conversation. Wasn't it? _Damn Vulcans and their silly social protocols._

"Councilwoman T'Lona," he said, nodding deeply.

"Ambassador Sarek," she answered with a quick bob of her head. "May you both live long and prosper."

They both extended the traditional Vulcan salute, which she and Tolek returned before retreating to a far end of the hall.

" _Before you ask, I have no idea what that was about_ ," Amanda explained through their bond, bringing her eyes up to meet his. " _She wants to meet with me? Is that right? I mean- is it acceptable? What am I supposed to do? I didn't think I could say no."_

His face was calm, but she could sense his curiosity.

" _Did she say why she wanted to meet with you_?"

" _She didn't really say much of anything, other than to ask about my work on the universal translator and my experience as a teacher_. _It was Tolek who introduced us. I don't know if you ever met him, but he was my boss at Project Rosetta_."

" _Did she ask specifically about your familiarity with the Romulan language?_ "

" _Yeah, actually. What does that have to do with anything?_ "

She sensed a rapid shift in Sarek's mind and knew it was switching into whatever gear that processed complex, logical problems.

He met the forefingers of their right hands together and said aloud, "Let us visit the garden."

" _Why are you changing the subject?"_

" _Because I would prefer to consider the matter first and later discuss it with you in private when there is no one observing_ ," he explained. " _You still have much to learn when it comes to mastery of your outward displays of emotion."_

She wanted to be offended, but she knew he made a good point. It made her nervous to wonder what was so mysterious about Councilwoman T'Lona's interest in her Romulan language abilities and teaching skills and she wanted nothing more than to pick Sarek's brain for an answer. Patience was one of those Vulcan virtues she felt convinced she would never really acquire.

As they exited a side door into the rapidly cooling night air, Sarek said, "I have news, since I know you prefer to be apprised immediately of such things."

"Oh?"

"I am to go to Orion next week."

"Orion?" she replied, trying her best to keep her tone even. "Why?"

"To discuss renewing trade agreements between the Orions, Coridans, and several Federation planets."

"Oh. Can I go with you?"

"Regrettably, no."

"How long will you be gone?"

"The provisional itinerary is scheduled for a period of twenty-four days."

"You're going to be gone for a _month_?" she said, forgetting to manage her tone.

"Perhaps you would like to return to Earth for a visit in my absence," he suggested.

They walked past a group of pale-colored succulents with thick, broad leaves, and she stared hard at the plants in thought. Her first instinct was to readily agree, but there were a lot of logistical problems to consider. What would she do with I-Chaya and Euclid?

Getting Euclid to Vulcan had been enough of an ordeal, and no doubt taking I-Chaya to Earth would have similar problems. Sarek had recommended hiring a small staff to take care of such things in their absence, but she still felt reluctant to be _that_ kind of person. Her mother had always fantasized about having "help," and maybe that was why she was so resistant to the idea.

Aside from that, after nearly a month and a dozen tri-ox injections, her body was finally acclimating to Vulcan's high gravity, thin atmosphere, and intolerable heat. Going back to Earth for a month would mean suffering for another month when she got home.

It occurred to her that she had just referred to Vulcan as _home_.

"I don't know," she said. "I'd have to think about it, but I feel it probably makes more sense to stay here."

"If that is what you wish, so be it," he replied. "There is one issue I wish to resolve prior to my departure."

* * *

"Maybe this wasn't a good idea," she said in apology. "We should probably just go home."

Sarek looked at his wife and summoned his patience. Amanda's skills at piloting a shuttlecar were remarkably substandard.

"Reengage the engine and let's begin again."

Teaching Amanda to operate his shuttlecar and getting her licensed to do so was of great importance. He could not in good conscience leave her alone in a rural estate on Vulcan with no means of transportation. He disliked leaving her alone at all.

His visit to Orion had been unexpected, but knowing the details, he understood he was the logical choice for the assignment. Vulcans were immune to the pheromones of Orion females, but unfortunately, humans were not. Human females in particular seemed to experience a number of negative physical reactions to the chemicals excreted by Orions, and therefore, it would be illogical to take Amanda.

She pulled the car back onto the narrow road and accelerated. She was getting better at making a smooth transition through lower energy cycles, but his head still jerked as the shuttlecar sped forward.

"I'm trying," she moaned, checking the energy outputs and looking to him for approval.

"You are improving," he admitted.

He wisely neglected to mention that by improving, she hadn't performed an action in the past hour that had significant potential to result in their deaths.

When she had first pulled the car onto the rural road by their home, she had accidentally attempted to engage the impulse engine. Fortunately, the impulse engine wasn't primed, but it had still stalled out the smaller propulsion unit, leaving the car nonoperational in the middle of the road with light traffic moving in both directions.

She had screamed, and a large transport shuttle would have struck them if he hadn't reacted quickly. Following that incident, he drove to a more remote road and they resumed.

Vulcans were respected for their high quality of engineering, and Vulcan shuttlecars were far superior to virtually all Terran models in terms of power output, durability, and efficiency. Unfortunately, they were also widely regarded as more difficult to operate.

"Do you really imagine me driving this shuttlecar good enough someday?"

"I suppose 'good is a matter of degrees, and I believe 'well' is grammatically correct," he replied. "Perhaps it would be best to avoid city centers and high traffic areas."

She snorted and laughed, and he observed the familiar crinkle of her nose and crease of her eyes.

"Thank you for doing this," she said. "I don't know if I'm going to pass a driving test tomorrow, but I never stop feeling thankful for you."

Her comment was disjointed and unclear, and he said, "Explain."

"When my dad taught me to drive as a teenager, there were a lot of arguments and tears. My dad was great at a lot of things, but he definitely didn't have a whole lot of patience."

He watched her clutch the opal pendant at her throat and smile nostalgically.

"Not that I expected you to yell at me, but you know," she added.

"If you turn left at the next intersection, it will return us to the house."

"I love you, Sarek."

He gazed at her in curiosity, sensing that her frequent shifts in dialogue were indicative of something other than driving.

"I'm really going to miss you," she said.

"I shall not be gone long, and-"

"I hate being so dependent on you," she interrupted.

She disengaged the engine to shift it into a lower energy cycle and pulled the shuttlecar to a stop onto the open shoulder of the road.

"I'm so happy to share my life with you…"

Her words trailed off and her carefully watched the features of her face. He brushed the fingers of her left hand with his, and tried to interpret her silence.

"I sense you are lacking a logical connective," he finally said.

"Yeah, but I'm not sure what it is. I love you very much, but I-"

"I did not think your love for me was in question," he mused.

She momentarily pushed his fingers away and then took his whole hand in hers.

"I sense you feel unfulfilled by your present circumstances," he explained.

"Something like that. I don't want to complain, and it's obviously not your fault. I don't know what I expected when we moved here- You've offered some solutions- I'm rambling…"

"Amanda, it would be illogical to claim the transition to such a foreign culture would be simple. I admire your attempts, and am grateful to have you as a mate. I know happiness is essential to human wellbeing, and on that subject, I feel ill equipped to provide you with the contentment you clearly require."

Her eyes would not meet his, but he could see they bore a sad quality.

"I have concluded that much of your happiness relies on your ability to retain your independence, and while you relinquished much of that by following me to Vulcan, I have considered many options for assisting you with regaining it. That was the chief purpose of teaching you to operate the shuttlecar, and why I have persisted in teaching you, despite-"

"You don't have to finish that sentence," she laughed.

Their eyes finally locked, and she leaned forward to kiss him.

"Thank you so much," she said as she drew her mouth away from his.

"If you wish to continue, I am happy to oblige," he replied.

She kissed him again more deeply, drawing her hands around his neck. He actively repressed the physical response her affection was eliciting in him, and gently pulled away. He pointed to the control panel and she grinned.

"Here's to independence," she said wryly, reengaging the engine.


	5. Breaking In

**April 2228**

" _Ack_!"

Amanda fell backward and just managed to duck out of the way as the heavy metal chest crashed to the floor. A pile of gray linens spilled out, covering the tile like an ashen blanket of snow.

I-Chaya's head popped around the corner to investigate, and he sat down just outside the closet to watch her efforts.

"Sorry," she said with a shrug.

Euclid had been sleeping on the bed, but the noise sent him fleeing to some remote corner of the house where he would likely remain for the rest of the day. She bent down to start collecting the mess, and noted a large, clothbound book below the pile of thin blankets.

Today began her second week of life without Sarek, and she'd decided to devote her time to exploring the house. The estate was approximately three hundred old, and seemed to possess a nearly equivalent number of secrets.

She'd already spent an hour in her bedroom closet, and still was not halfway done sorting through its contents. The closet was almost as large as her apartment bedroom on Earth had been, and had a much higher ceiling that allowed for multiple shelves for storage. Everything she'd discovered so far was what she'd expected to find in a closet: extra blankets and old clothes folded into neat formations.

She sat down and collected the tome buried in the blankets. It was old but well made, and when she cracked the binding, she discovered thick pages covered in neat handwriting.

_A cookbook._

She flipped through the pages, admiring the loopy Vulcan text and the presence of notes in the narrow margins. The varied handwriting and ink suggested the book had multiple owners through the years. She turned to the first page and traced her fingers over words, struggling to decipher the formal, old-fashioned script. She finally made out the last entry and smiled.

 _T'Rama_. It had most recently belonged to Sarek's mother.

She set it down and stared at it. She'd spent the previous week working up the courage to do this, and now that she was elbow deep in it, all the same anxieties began to surface.

She felt as though she was invading the S'chn T'gai family's privacy. Cookbooks were supposed to be very personal things. Everyone she knew had a family recipe for some dish or another, so it seemed presumptuous to indulge in the book's secrets.

Sarek had told her this was  _her_  space, and he'd cleared much of it out to make room for her things when they moved. The closet was massive and her wardrobe was small, so all of her possessions fit neatly into the first section, and the back eighty-percent was a material survey of generations of S'chn T'gai women.

She married into his family, but she had yet to really feel part of it, and the act of perusing the belongings of his dead female relations felt arrogant, as though she was inviting herself into the family rather than waiting to be welcomed into it.

It was a bit of a dilemma, because there really wasn't much of a family for her to join. She met Sarek's brother Silek at their wedding, and he had a large number of distant relations scattered throughout the planet and surrounding quadrant, but both of his parents were deceased, and he had no immediate aunts, uncles, or cousins.

Her curiosity eventually won over her uncertainty, and she collected the book in her lap and allowed the pages to fall open. How many meals had been forged from these pages? How many generations had it taken to perfect these recipes?

The ornate script made translation slow, but she soon came to a page that was nearly covered in lines, notes, and corrections. Hues of black, blue, and faded purple ink littered the margins, and she identified at least six separate styles of handwriting.

 _Plomeek broth_ : a Vulcan staple.

Amanda's feelings about the dish were ambivalent, but she knew her husband loved it. Of course, Sarek would never admit to "loving" soup, citing the illogic in holding an inanimate source of nutrition as being dear to his heart, but she always imagined that deep beneath the exterior of Vulcan logic was the same nostalgia for home that all creatures were inclined to feel at one time or another.

She had the idea long before she really became aware of it, but she wanted to learn to make the familiar soup that his mother had made for him, just as her mother had made it for  _her_ , and so on for at six least generations, based on the cookbook in her hands.

Amanda knew she was a mediocre cook at best: Sarek was the real chef in their marriage. Her husband's culinary skills were really something to behold, but he had always been modest about it, claiming it was merely the practical exercise of chemistry and thermodynamics. He had explained that all young Vulcan children learned traditional cooking skills from their mothers, not only to reinforce self-reliance, but their scientific educations.

Since she'd moved to Vulcan and assumed the role of housewife for lack of anything better to do, she'd tried to cook several meals, but usually just resorted to the replicator. The food it produced was adequate enough, and Sarek had yet to complain, not that he ever would have anyway.

She had been wanting a hobby, and sensed that this might be just what she was looking for. She was going to learn to cook, and cook  _well_ , not just slap together ingredients into an edible mixture or push a button and have a machine do it for her.

She set the cookbook to the side and resumed the exploration of the closet. She refolded the heap of gray blankets, collected them back into the metal trunk, and then lugged it up the stepstool to put it back on the top shelf.

The next box was made of a hard, plastic material, and was much lighter than she expected. She easily hoisted it from its position and carried it to the floor, and when she pulled off the lid, she experienced a warm, contented feeling rush through her belly.

_Baby clothes._

She nearly laughed. Most human infant clothing was adorable and designed with the ego and personalities of the parents in mind, and was typically covered in cartoon animals or slogans like, "Mommy's little helper" or "I still live with my parents." What she held in her hands was far more…  _Vulcan_.

They were all shades of white or blue, and were quite soft to the touch. She couldn't explain why, but she rubbed a small shirt on her cheek and inhaled deeply. It smelled like old clothes, but a tiny part of her had been hoping for some lingering baby smell. She held it up and immediately began to giggle.

_Sarek might have worn this._

The thought of her husband as a tiny, newly born baby was delightfully appealing, and also humbling. Sarek, Vulcan ambassador to Earth, the man who was steadily growing famous throughout the Federation for his gift of oratory and negotiation was once a helpless, crying baby. So was she. So was  _everyone_.

She continued to sort through the clothes, gently touching an occasional stubborn stain or tear and wondering about the story behind it, and feeling curious about what it would be like to grow up on Vulcan. The more she looked, the more she grew aware of a lurking feeling deeply rooted in longing and insecurity.

Amanda knew she wanted children one day, but didn't know when one day would be. She was already twenty-six, and would be twenty-seven next month. Maybe one day was  _now_. She felt as ready as she would ever be.

Her euphoria at her realization shifted to fear.

One of her deepest fears was that she wouldn't be able to have children with Sarek. They both understood it was  _possible_  with reproductive technology and had discussed it prior to getting married, but it the data on success rates for Vulcan-human hybrid children was quite limited. She would happily adopt or foster children, but a small, selfish part of her wanted one of their very own.

Though she knew it was irrational, she also felt a tiny bit sad that even if they  _did_  have children, they would be more the product of a science experiment than of the natural course of love. What if they made a baby that was sick, or  _worse_ , what if their baby died because something went wrong?

She set the onesie in her hands back on top of the pile in anxiety, and then scowled. How silly to feel such strong emotions over clothes.

She urged herself to be logical. People had been using reproductive techniques to have children for centuries: there was no shame in it. And as for having a healthy baby, not even nature got it right a hundred percent of the time. Even with advances in modern medicine, sometimes things just happened, and wasn't that the great gamble of life?

She folded the baby clothes back into the plastic box and restored it to its original location on the shelf. She wanted a break. Her mind was full and her belly was empty, so she stretched her back, collected the cookbook, and made her way to the kitchen.

Plomeek soup turned out to be a more complicated dish than she realized. The ingredient list was short and the instructions seemed simple enough, but the first attempt resulted in a brown paste-like liquid that curled her nose hairs. Neither Euclid nor I-Chaya would even approach it when she put it in their food dishes.

Her second try was a closer approximation of the usual color of the broth, but was so bitter that no amount of water would peel the taste from her tongue. When she poured it down the drain, the cloud of steam was foul enough to send her pets scampering out of the room.

What was she doing  _so_  wrong that her plomeek soup was closer to a cleaning solvent than food?

She was thankful Sarek wasn't home to witness this disaster, and hoped the peculiar smell radiating throughout the kitchen would dissipate before he returned home. She decided to abandon her culinary efforts for the afternoon and replicated herself a small bowl of pre-tarmeeli and sat down at the counter.

Of all Vulcan dishes, this was her favorite. Most Vulcan cuisine was regarded as bland, nutritional, and adequate. This spicy dish dared to be a pleasant exception, and was vaguely reminiscent of Indian food.

Amanda thought of the semester she spent living above a nameless, hole-in-the-wall Indian restaurant as an undergrad in New Chicago. Calling it a restaurant was being generous: it was really a kitchen that had a table out front for the rare individual who decided to stop and eat. No one ever did, at least, not that Amanda ever saw.

She set her spoon down and stared at the vegetable stew. She was certain she would never stop missing Earth.

She knew her longing extended well beyond her home planet. She missed going out and engaging the world around her and the people in it. She missed simple things like sitting down in a quiet café on a lazy Sunday morning with a book or window-shopping on city streets.

What she really wanted was to go out and explore, to soak in Vulcan culture firsthand. It seemed the fastest way to acclimatize to her new home, but each time she considered it, she was nearly paralyzed by anxiety.

There was so much she didn't know about Vulcan and Vulcans, and though Sarek often praised her command of Vuhlkansu as being "very good," she feared it wasn't good enough to a people who practically made a playground out of language and rational discourse. She recalled in one of her very first meetings with Sarek how, rather than thanking him for accepting her invitation, she'd informed him that she wanted to impregnate him instead. They were  _married_  now, and she still hadn't quite gotten over that.

If she weren't married to an ambassador, she probably wouldn't care so much about making an occasional language gaffe or cultural faux pas, but she knew her actions reflected on her husband.

At the state dinner several weeks earlier, Amanda had developed a light headache, and realized it was the result of holding her breath. Vulcans were just  _that_  intimidating. No one would ever  _say_  so, but she knew Sarek was considered something of an oddity for marrying a human woman.

He wasn't the first Vulcan to marry a member of another species: it happened every now and again, particularly among members of the academia who left Vulcan to reside on other worlds for research or teaching positions. She'd done a bit of research just before they moved, and she could find no examples of politicians or diplomats taking such an unusual mate.

She didn't want to be an embarrassment to him.

She frowned again, fighting off the feelings of inadequacy and loneliness that threatened so often of engulf her. Sarek married her because he loved her, mistakes, flaws, and all. She just needed to keep telling herself that until she could really believe it.

She cleaned up from her lunch, collected the cookbook and went to the front sitting room. She curled up onto the high-backed chaise lounge and scanned the recipe for plomeek soup again, wondering where she could have gone so wrong.

Her fingers traced the elegant handwritten notes of Sarek's long deceased female relatives, and she spotted a problem.

 _Sluk_ , not  _slok_.

"Sluk" meant fresh, whereas "slok" meant something roughly equivalent to cornstarch, which probably explained why the first attempt had the consistency of thin batter.

The recipe called for fresh plomeek. Was it  _fresh_  if it came from a replicator?

She looked up in momentary reflection, and that was how an idea began to take root.  _Literally_.

Like most Vulcan homes, the house had an atrium that served a dual function as a garden and outdoor meditation area. Theirs was located in the center of the house just off the entryway; it was large, rectangular, and was in a dismal state.

She walked to the thick glass windows and looked over a woeful crop of weeds and wild plants, as well as some hardier herbs that had become overgrown. She pushed the door open with some difficulty, gasping as the blistering heat of the late afternoon wafted into the house.

The ground was covered in a patchwork of scraggly, dead branches. She pushed them aside to reveal a black, stone walking path that led to a circular, stone deck in the center. She brushed her hands along a bush with tiny, whitish leaves and was surprised by the burst of a minty aroma.

It was almost like mint, but not quite. More like mint's tangy cousin. She thought it might be called hla'meth, but she wasn't certain.

She remembered there was a plant nursery nestled on the edge of Shi'Kahr's suburbs: she had commented on it during their drive to the state dinner. A perfect opportunity to get out of the house for the first time in more than a week.

The nursery was in a fairly rural location, so she could also practice driving the shuttlecar without taking it into the fast-paced city, but most importantly, there would be  _people_  there, but probably not so many that she would feel overwhelmed by intimidation.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she grabbed her shoulder bag and a headscarf to cover her face from the sun and trotted down to the garage.

The long, black shuttlecar, her  _nemesis_ , sat innocuously at the ready.

"Here goes nothing," she said firmly.

She closed the door to the shuttlecar and surveyed the controls. She depressed the ignition and heard the small engine roar to life. It was loud and she began to panic.

_Was the auxiliary impulse engine on?_

She immediately powered down the vehicle and stared anxiously at the control panel. The impulse engine had not come online: she was just in an enclosed garage and the acoustics were making it seem louder.

She rolled her eyes at her own incompetence, grateful once again that Sarek wasn't here to witness her failure. Driving lessons had been embarrassing enough, and the marks on her licensing exam the prior week had been on the  _very_  low side of average.

She was still proud of herself for remembering about the impulse engine though, and figured caution was better than carelessness. It would be a very bad afternoon indeed if she went cruising around the Vulcan countryside at more than eighteen thousand kilometers per second. Why Vulcans outfitted most models of privately owned shuttlecars with interplanetary engines, she would never know.

She made it to the end of the driveway without incident and wanted to cheer. Her knuckles were white from her grip on the steering console, but exhilaration trumped anxiety.  _She was free_.

She pulled onto the quiet, two-lane highway leading into Shi'Kahr and sighed a breath of relief. The afternoon was beginning to wane as she pulled into the lot of the nursery, and she was happy to see only one other vehicle.

The building was low and covered in a waxy, vining plant that looked like the Vulcan equivalent of English ivy, giving it an almost stately appearance. A small bell above the door heralded her presence, and she looked around awkwardly.

Before her stood an open room with narrow aisles of plants of numerous species. She took several cautious steps forward, wondering if it was still open for business.

" _Tonk'peh_?" she called, trying the most informal Vulcan greeting.

She waited by a long column of pots filled with miniature, reddish shrubs, and began to worry she was intruding.

" _Hello_?"

A door at the back of the room opened and an elderly woman carrying an oversized pair of pruning shears and gloves entered. The woman stopped in her tracks when she saw her, and Amanda was certain she registered a momentary look of disbelief.

"How may I assist you?"

Her Federation Standard English was flawless, which was mildly surprising given her age. Vulcan, like most Federation member planets, made English education compulsory, but such policies had only been in place for twenty or thirty years. She had been hoping to practice her Vuhlkansu on someone other than her very patient husband, but since the woman chose to use English, it would be rude to insist on Vuhlkansu.

"I uh- I was wondering- I wanted to start a garden," Amanda said.

What a stupid thing to say. Why else did people come into nurseries?

The woman set the shears against the back door and strolled up to her with almost catlike grace, stopping six paces away to stand with her hands positioned deferentially behind her back. Her eyes were dark, but were unusually lively for a Vulcan.

"Perhaps you could be more specific with your requirements."

"Oh, sure. I- uh- I specifically wanted plomeek? It's a flower, right?"

She could feel her cheeks growing hot and wanted to kick herself for not doing more research before coming here.

The woman nodded and walked her to a long formation of bushes with light green leaves and flowers with pale, purple blossoms. She touched the petals of one of the plants and instantly recognized the telltale savory aroma that gave plomeek soup its distinct flavor.

"May I assist you with anything else?"

Amanda bit her lip. There was something odd about this woman, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"What kinds of herbs are common in Vulcan cuisine?"

"There are many. Would you prefer only herbs that grow out of doors in this region?"

"Yes, I suppose that would make a difference," Amanda admitted.

She couldn't help the small smile that escaped her lips. She looked down at the ground to recollect herself and asked, "What's easy to grow?"

 _There_. Finally, a halfway intelligent question.

"Hla'meth, kh'aa, and theris grow readily in this temperate zone with little cultivation," the woman explained, walking smoothly between the rows to reach a large display at the back of the open room.

"I have this growing in my garden already," Amanda replied, touching the small white leaves of a hla'meth plant.

"Perhaps it would be more efficient if you explained what it is you wish to accomplish."

"Well, my husband and I just moved here. He's from Shi'Kahr, and-"

Not even most humans would want to hear her whole life story, let alone a Vulcan.

"Sorry, it's not important," she mumbled.

That's when she knew what was so strange about this woman: Amanda's humanity seemed to be irrelevant and uninteresting to her. Not that anyone ever  _intended_  to be rude, but Amanda sensed she was an object of curiosity to most Vulcans, particularly Vulcans who rarely if ever traveled off their home world.

"You just moved here?" the woman repeated neutrally.

"Yes," Amanda responded, wishing there was a way she could keep from blushing in embarrassment.

The woman remained unfazed.

"I have an atrium in my house with a garden that hasn't been taken care of in many years, and I want to make it presentable again."

"Very well," the woman replied.

They spent the next two hours discussing horticulture, covering a range of topics about soil acidity, drought tolerance, natural pesticides and the like. Amanda had some limited experience with gardening back on Earth, but the things were very different here.

Amanda was certain she could listen to the woman talk for many hours more, but the fading light outside signaled to her that it would be polite to leave and let the woman close her store for the day. She hadn't realized until now just how much she craved the company of other people, and the thought of going back to her lonely house was depressing.

They met at the register, and Amanda felt compelled to say, "Thank you for being so helpful. And  _kind_."

She immediately regretted the tone of her voice, since the shaking timbre almost dared to suggest that kindness was a rare quality in Vulcans. The woman's face remained smooth and unreadable, and she replied, "You are welcome, ma'am."

There was something unique in her choice of the word "ma'am," which had once been common on Earth's North American continent but was now becoming obsolete in general usage.

"Is there something the matter?" the woman asked.

Amanda realized she'd been lost in her own thoughts and staring at the counter.

"You just called me ma'am," she explained, trying to keep her facial expressions in check.

"Is that no longer a correct honorific? If I have offended you-"

" _No_ ," Amanda interrupted with a wave of her hands, forgetting her efforts to conceal her emotions. "It's fine. It just- reminds me of…  _home_."

"I resided on Earth, for a time," the woman said. "It was many years ago."

Amanda hesitated. In the natural course of human conversation, such a sentence almost demanded follow up questions that would lead to idle chitchat, but Vulcans were very private people. Still, this woman didn't seem like the typical Vulcan.

"If you don't mind me asking, where did you live?" Amanda asked.

She held her breath, certain she'd just breeched some vital rule of Vulcan social protocols.

"Sausalito."

"I lived in San Francisco," Amanda explained.

The woman's face remained relaxed but her eyes were alert and looked…  _friendly_. Amanda already felt so far out on a limb that she decided to go for it.

"I know this must sound very forward, but I don't know anyone here, and- would you be interested in- I don't know- do Vulcans get together for coffee?"

"I never grew accustomed to that beverage," the woman said.

" _Oh_ ," Amanda replied with an awkward nod.

In truth, she was a lifelong lover of tea and didn't much care for coffee either.

"Though I am partial to many varieties of tea," the woman added.

Amanda bit down on her lower lip to keep from grinning stupidly, and looked down at the plants she had just purchased.

"I'm a tea drinker too, honestly. Would you like to come over for a cup? Maybe tomorrow?"

"I am occupied for the next five days, but I can accept your invitation at a later date."

She could no longer help it: the smile emerged with the force of a battering ram. The Vulcan calendar was confusing, and she tried to think of the current date and count forward five days. She gave up and asked, "Can you come over in five days then?"

"What time would be appropriate?"

Amanda wouldn't care if the woman dropped by at midnight, but she tried to collect herself and asked, "Is the morning ok?  _0900_? Oh, and I live, um, up the road, if you go-"

"I am familiar with the location of the S'chn T'gai family estate. I shall be there."

This woman knew where she lived, which implied she knew who Amanda was, which was somehow a terrifying relief.

"I feel a bit embarrassed," she began. "I've been talking to you all this time and just invited you over to my house and I don't even know your name. I'm Amanda."

"My apologies for failing to introduce myself. I am T'Pol."


	6. Homemaking and Homecoming

**May 2228**

"So you were _at_ the founding of the Federation? You actually watched the charter get signed?"

"Yes."

Amanda sat back on her hips and stared at the woman.

"I'm sorry if I sound completely awestruck, but I _am_. To be an eyewitness to history like that, it's-"

She stopped just short of saying "crazy," and shook her head.

"History is made every day. That is why is it referred to as history. As I was saying, the k'rhth'a requires larger amounts of sunlight, so you would be wise to place it more centrally in the garden."

Amanda stood, stretched her stiff legs, picked up the tray of small grayish green plants, and joined T'Pol on the central stone deck. She had invited the older woman over for tea, but she had kindly agreed to offer Amanda assistance with the garden.

It had taken Amanda several days to clear out of the old, overgrown vegetation and get the soil ready for planting. Had she been on Earth, she could have accomplished it in an afternoon, but Vulcan's higher gravity and blistering heat quickly sapped her energy, so she worked only for short periods during dawn and dusk.

The tri-ox injections were helping her body acclimatize, but she didn't want to push herself too hard. The last thing she needed was to pass out from heatstroke and have Sarek find her sunburned corpse when he came home next week.

It was nearly 1100 now and Amanda had thick streams of sweat pouring down her cheeks, but they were nearly done transplanting the potted herbs and vegetables into the ground. In the hour they'd spent working in the rocky soil, T'Pol had revealed herself to be the most interesting individual Amanda had ever met, and she got the sense she was barely even scratching the surface.

It was difficult to balance her natural curiosity and desperate desire for friends with T'Pol's Vulcan sense of privacy, but the woman had given her a rough overview of her career, and it was mind-boggling.

_The Vulcan Ministry of Security. The Vulcan Science Council. Science officer of the Enterprise under the legendary Jonathan Archer. Decades of service in the fledgling Starfleet organization. A quietly retired gardener._

She couldn't help but wonder how old T'Pol was, but knew it was extremely taboo to inquire after a Vulcan's age. Sarek was sixty-three – a detail she hadn't learned until after they were engaged. Amanda often did her best not to think about the fact that she was married to a man old enough to be her father, and almost old enough to be her _grandfather_.

Sarek's age was easy to forget, because by human standards, he _looked_ like he was in his early thirties. Amanda sometimes wondered what it would be like to grow old with him, knowing that her body would begin growing feeble long before his would. In another twenty years or so, her hair would probably be fully gray and her face would be streaked with wrinkles, and Sarek would probably look much the same as he did now.

Most humans lived to be around a hundred, and even if she lived to be among the oldest humans, she would still beat her husband to the grave by several decades. It was a sobering truth they'd never talked about, but knowing Sarek's logical mind, he must have considered it before asking her to marry him. She wondered how he justified the logic in taking a wife who would age twice as fast as he did.

She wasn't old _yet_ , but she could feel her biological clock ticking. Discovering the baby clothes in her closet several days ago had gotten her thinking, and the more she thought about it, the more certain she became. _She wanted a baby._

Now all she had to do was convince Sarek.

"I would recommend loosening the edge of the root ball before transplanting it in the soil."

" _Huh_?"

Amanda's mind snapped back to reality and she stared over at T'Pol, who was holding one of the juvenile k'rhth'a plants by the stem and kneading the root system.

"Oh, right," she smiled.

At first she'd tried to hide her emotions from the older woman like she did around all other Vulcans who weren't her husband, but she quickly realized that T'Pol didn't seem to mind.

"You are quiet," T'Pol said.

"Oh, I just thought I might be asking too many questions," Amanda chuckled. "I didn't want run you off on your first visit."

"You asked how long I had owned the nursery," T'Pol replied. "My explanation naturally led to a discussion about my career, which is a matter of public record."

"I just know that Vulcans prefer privacy," Amanda explained, setting to work on digging a hole for the final k'rhth'a plant.

"And I am aware that humans prefer to forge friendships through the mutual sharing of personal histories."

Amanda lifted the wide-brimmed hat to wipe away the thick layer of sweat on her forehead and glanced at T'Pol. Her features were serious, but her eyes were warm and friendly.

"I guess that's true," Amanda agreed.

"It has been many years since I have been in the company of humans," T'Pol said. "I was prepared to honor your social conventions when I accepted your invitation. After all, this is your home."

There was something in her words that sounded almost nostalgic. Was she implying she missed being around humans?

"What was it _like_?" Amanda finally blurted.

"What was what like?"

"The frontier of space."

"Perhaps you could be more specific."

She tried to collect her thoughts and pose an intelligent question. Prior to his death, Amanda's father had been a rare elements surveyor and had often ventured into remote sectors of space, which she had always thought sounded terrifying. Space was dangerous and full of dangerous people – an idea demonstrated by the fact that Melvin Grayson had died hiding in a nebula while trying to escape from terrorists led by a rogue Starfleet admiral.

"What did you have for translators?" she finally asked. "How did you communicate with new cultures?"

"There were a number of prototypic translators, but they were often inadequate to our needs. _Enterprise_ was fortunate to have a talented linguist assigned, but miscommunication was frequent. I believe they have completed work on the comprehensive universal translator."

"It's done, but it hasn't been fully integrated across Starfleet yet, and I don't think it will be available for civilian use for several more years," Amanda replied.

"You are familiar with the project?" T'Pol asked.

"I worked on it for almost two years: first as a volunteer and then as an employee," Amanda said.

"What was your role?"

"I'm not very savvy with the engineering part of it, but the earliest versions failed because of lack of textual data – the intuitive subroutines would never properly engage. So five years ago, the project expanded, and people began working on it from both directions: the computer scientists and engineers built and programmed, and the translators and linguists established an exhaustive lexicon of all known languages, including several fictional ones as a control. I was responsible for linking lexicon entries and writing transfer rules to do syntactic-level translation for both Tellarite and Romulan."

T'Pol said nothing, and Amanda sensed an awkward silencing forming.

"Sorry, I can tend to ramble sometimes about boring subjects."

"You are a linguist?"

"Not so much anymore, but I have a graduate degree in theoretical xenolinguistics from the American Language Institute," Amanda admitted, wondering if she was coming across as self-important.

"That is a prestigious institution."

"Yeah, I guess," Amanda murmured.

The truth was, Amanda had gone to a top-rated school and graduated fourth in her class, and every now and again she wondered how she would ever make use of her education and experience on Vulcan. For all their talks of Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations, Vulcans were a remarkably closed society. The Vulcan Science Academy had exactly two non-Vulcan faculty members: a human geologist and an Andorian physicist.

Amanda wasn't certain, but she was pretty sure both must be prodigies of the highest order to be accepted within Vulcan academic circles. As a human, it would be easier for her to get a seat on the Vulcan High Council than establish a career in academia.

When they'd first moved to Vulcan, she'd even looked at employment postings for grade school education, since she had some experience with teaching children from working at the diplomatic school. She had made several inquiries before she got the sense that school administrators felt that parents wouldn't want their impressionable Vulcan children exposed to human emotional outbursts, such as an occasional smile.

She had been cautiously hopeful when Councilwoman T'Lona had approached her at the state dinner several weeks earlier and asked about her work experience, but she'd never heard anything back.

"How did you come to have knowledge of the Romulan language?" T'Pol asked suddenly.

"Oh, _well_ …"

Amanda paused and chewed on her bottom lip. She regretted steering the conversation in this direction. She had firsthand knowledge of the Romulan language from a Romulan Captain named Llhran. She, Sarek, and Llhran had worked together to escape from a commandeered Romulan vessel nearly two years ago, but this fact wasn't public knowledge.

Officially, the Federation had never made visual contact with the Romulans, not even during the Earth-Romulan War seventy years ago. There were a few members within the Vulcan government who knew of the shared ancestry between Romulans and Vulcans, but the Vulcan High Council had asked her to keep this fact quiet as a means of preserving stability throughout the Federation.

Political tensions had been high ever since Admiral Bentham's failed terrorist plot. When he was a child, Maxwell Bentham's family had been killed on the Jouret colony during a war between the Klingons and the Romulans. Eventually, he'd risen through the ranks of Starfleet intelligence, and began developing a weapon that could destroy planets, and intended to use it on Romulus and Qo'nos.

He had killed Amanda's father and countless others in his pursuit of revenge, and had come dangerously close to starting an outright war with the Romulan Star Empire when he stole a Romulan warbird with cloaking capabilities. With the help of a few politicos, Bentham had also nearly convinced Earth to vote to secede from the Federation, and it had been a difficult process to heal the scars of political strife that had come from those events.

Even _talking_ about secession had made many question the strength and purpose of the Federation, both from within and without. Amanda wasn't as well-versed on these issues as her husband, but even just from casually keeping up with the news, she knew there was still civil unrest on Andoria, a new threat of a military coups on Ithen, increased activity of the Orion Syndicate, and so many other secondary problems. And those were only the _internal_ ones.

Recent reports suggested Klingons were beginning to dispute certain regions in the beta quadrant, the Coridanites were threatening to ignore Federation trade agreements, and open requests for a diplomatic conference with the Romulans had gone ignored.

That last item was particularly frightening. The Romulans had good reason to want war with the Federation after Bentham had abducted Llhran and his crew. Llhran had taken a separate escape pod after they destroyed the ship, and if he had survived, there was no guarantee he would keep his mouth shut. It seemed the only thing keeping the Romulans at bay was one man's fear of dishonor in admitting he'd lost his ship and crew to Federation terrorists.

Amanda _hated_ politics.

She finished scooping a mound of dirt around the base of the last k'rhth'a plant and glanced over at T'Pol.

"I'm not an expert in the Romulan language; I just had some experience with the Vulcanoid language family," Amanda finally explained. "And there was a some stuff in the Starfleet databases from the Earth-Romulan War and several other brief contacts before that. Those transmissions proved pretty useful in establishing a basic understanding of the language."

"I see."

Amanda stood and began collecting the gardening supplies. She was quickly getting overheated as the sun rose higher in the sky.

A brief memory clicked in her head. T'Pol had been assigned to the _Enterprise_ , and _Enterprise_ had stumbled into a Romulan minefield in the early 2150s. The conversations collected from that encounter had been enormously helpful in her work on the universal translator. When she had searched the databases for other incidents between _Enterprise_ and Romulans, there had been two other files, one from 2158 and a second one in 2159 – during the height of the Earth-Romulan War.

Those files had been classified, and even though she had the appropriate clearance, Starfleet had been unable to release them to her, citing a conflict with the Vulcan High Council. She'd asked her Vulcan supervisor for help, but she'd gotten the feeling Tolek wasn't eager to petition his government for sensitive files, and after several weeks, he'd told her that her request had been denied.

She'd been able to get along well enough without the transmission documents, but she'd always been curious. What was so secret about those transmissions that even seventy years after the war had ended they could still be potentially damaging to Vulcan or the Federation?

"How long did you say you served on _Enterprise_?" Amanda asked offhandedly.

"I did not specify my period of service," T'Pol replied.

"Well, how long _did_ you serve on that ship?"

"From 2151 to 2164."

"So you were serving aboard _Enterprise_ during the Earth-Romulan War?"

To the untrained eye, T'Pol offered no visible reaction to her question, but Amanda had spent years observing Sarek's subtle Vulcan body language and facial expressions. T'Pol seemed _uncomfortable_.

"As well as the Xindi crisis and several other conflicts," T'Pol replied.

"Of course," Amanda replied, deciding to drop the subject.

"You seem eager to go indoors," T'Pol said, rising to her feet.

"It's taking longer to get used to the heat than I thought," Amanda admitted sheepishly. "I'm so thankful for all of your help with the garden though. It looks wonderful."

It _did_. The sad central atrium was no longer a neglected patch of dead branches; it was awash in the vibrant colors and aromas of plomeek, k'rhth'a, hla'meth, kh'aa, tri'hla, and theris, and several vegetables varieties, including fori and barkayik. She was curious how Sarek would react when he returned home from Orion the following week.

T'Pol surveyed the results and nodded, and Amanda offered a weak grin. She was happy to have a new friend who was so comfortable around humans, but she got the sense there was a lot more to T'Pol than she would ever let on.

* * *

Amanda had not acknowledged his transmission, and it was unusual for her to delay so long in sending a response. He would be home in less than ten minutes, and since there was nothing he could do in the interim, worry was illogical.

He powered down his PADD and gazed at the sun setting over the horizon. It pleased him to be home.

It had been more than a week since he'd spoken with his wife, since his duties on Orion had kept him occupied. For now, Coridan's dilithium would continue to flow to the Federation and the Orions would allow passage through their sector of space, with several concessions for customs and tariffs.

This angered the Ithenites, who distrusted the Coridans and shared a significant region of their space with the Orions. Ithen was a Federation member, and Coridan and Orion were not, and the Ithenites accused the other Federation planets of looking out for their own interests at the expense of Ithen.

Ithen's government had been unstable for nearly a decade following recovery from a series of natural disasters, and now the planet seemed on the verge of a military takeover. The lone Ithenite on the Federation Council resigned her post earlier that morning, and there was wide speculation about who would be asked to fill the vacancy. _Speculation was illogical._

The Federation had agreed to meet with Ithen representatives on Risa in one weeks' time, and Sarek had been unanimously chosen to mediate the discussion. He had returned from Orion a day early to get his affairs at the Vulcan Science Academy in order before departing for Risa.

The diplomatic service car pulled onto the long driveway leading to his estate, and he could just make out the shape of the house in the distance. It was illogical to long for Amanda's company, but he would be glad to see his wife again. The longer he had been away on Orion, the less he'd been able to feel her through their mating bond.

Adjusting to life on Vulcan had proven difficult for her, and he disliked leaving her alone for long intervals, but he knew Amanda was an intelligent and resourceful woman. She had many fine qualities that had made her a desirable mate, and he was grateful for her.

Two minutes later, the shuttlecar pulled into the circular driveway. He waited for the driver to open the door, and then assisted the man in collecting his two small pieces of luggage and thanked him for his service.

He entered the house to Euclid's howls and the presence of a unidentifiable but highly familiar aroma. He set his bags by the door and scratched the cat's back, having learned that physical acknowledgement was the only certain way to placate his desire for attention.

He heard the sound of metal utensils coming from the kitchen, and as he proceeded down the hallway, the sight of the atrium caught his attention. It was full of life, just as it had been when his mother was alive.

T'Rama had devoted hours each week to maintaining a fresh supply of vegetables and herbs for cooking, and the sight of plomeek and theris blooming in his home once again stirred several childhood memories to the forefront of his consciousness.

His father had taught him to meditate in this garden. Some of his first lessons in the life sciences had come from helping his mother cultivate plants here. As he gazed at the pale plomeek flowers in the fading light, another memory surfaced and connected to a part of his subconscious. He knew what the light, savory aroma hanging in the air was: his foremother's plomeek soup.

He turned the corner into the kitchen and nearly tripped over I-Chaya. Amanda's back was turned toward him, and she was standing over a wide metal pot, stirring its contents with a metal spoon while her fingers scanned along the text of his mother's old cookbook. He paused for a moment in the entryway, but she seemed unaware of his presence, so he took several quiet steps toward her until he was immediately behind her.

He gently pushed his consciousness out toward her and through their bond he said, " _Amanda_?"

Her shoulders stiffened and she whirled around in alarm, but the startled expression in her eyes melted into joy. The rush of her emotions pushed powerfully against him, and she abandoned the ladle in the pot and threw her arms around his neck. The difference in their height caused her toes to brush the ground, so he leaned down slightly to allow her to stand more comfortably.

His wife was fond of physical displays of affection, and he stood patiently while she pressed herself against him. The warmth of her body stimulated a subtle arousal in Sarek, and when she drew back slightly from her embrace to kiss him, his body instinctively followed hers and pressed her back into the counter.

He immediately regained control of himself, but Amanda continued her kisses, and his resolve began to weaken again. His hands travelled from her waist to her thighs, and he pushed her up onto the counter. Amanda was momentarily stunned by his boldness, but she resumed kissing him with a renewed intensity, and drew him closer by pulling at his belt loops.

Only when her hands began to unfasten the buttons of his trousers did he pull back.

"Mating in the kitchen less than thirty centimeters from a pot of boiling liquid is impractical and dangerous."

Her cheeks flushed, but she let go and kissed him gently and said, "I missed you."

Sarek nodded slightly, and she added, "I know you missed me too."

"Missing someone is-"

" _Illogical_ ," she finished, cupping his cheeks with her hands. "I _know_. But I can tell."

Amanda could be so intractable at times. Rather than argue, he turned his attention to the cookbook behind her and the plomeek broth simmering to her right.

"I wanted to talk to you about something," she said quickly.

He could see from the shift in her facial expression that she was nervous.

"You do not need to tell me of your intentions to speak with me," he replied. "You should speak freely."

"So, I uh- well, while you were gone, I was uh- going through some of the things in my closet and I happened to find some things," she said, her voice growing quieter.

"You found things while going through things?"

"Ok, let me start over," she groaned. "So, I found some… _things_."

"You said that. I presume you located my mother's collection of recipes."

" _Huh_? Oh, yeah," she mumbled, turning around to look at the book behind her. "I hope you don't mind. This is _ok_ , isn't it?"

"I do not understand your meaning."

"You don't mind that I'm using your mom's recipes? I've been trying to learn a couple of them, and I know I'm not half the cook you are, but… I don't know. You don't _mind_ , do you?"

"No," he readily admitted. "A recipe is intended as an instructional reference, and its function is poorly served if it remains hidden away in a remote corner of the house. I have yet to sample the meal you've prepared, but it smells like a close analog of the plomeek broth my foremother often served."

"Your grandmother?"

"Yes, my mother often preferred to leave the task of meal preparation to the housekeeper."

" _Oh_ ," Amanda said with a small frown. "Well, I hope I got it right. I was actually making it for breakfast tomorrow, because that's when I thought you'd be home."

"I returned early because I am to travel to Risa next week, and have a number of tasks overdue at the Academy."

" _Oh_ ," Amanda replied. "Well, _ok_."

"It was my hope that you would accompany me. Have you hired a housekeeper as I recommended?"

"Um, _no_ , actually," she explained, sliding off the edge of the counter and turning off the heat to the stove. "It's just _weird_. I don't know."

He could not understand why Amanda should persist in her belief that employing an individual or a small staff to care for the estate was needless and frivolous.

"You had a caretaker for the place when you lived on Earth," she added. "Couldn't you just call him while we're gone?"

_It was a logical solution, but only a temporary one._

"Very well. What did you wish to discuss with me?" he asked.

"Oh, _that_. Well, I was thinking, I'm not getting any younger…"

"It would be illogical to suggest that you were," he replied.

"Ok, true enough," she laughed as she extracted two porcelain bowls from the overhead cupboard and handed one to him. "I just was wondering. I think _I'm_ ready, but would you be interested in starting to try-"

Her PADD began to chirp from the next room and her face contorted into frustration.

"Wait right here," she said sternly, setting her bowl down on the counter before darting past him.

Where else did she imagine he would wait? _His wife, lovely yet so often illogical._

He poured himself a bowl of the broth and sat down at the counter. Most Vulcans typically took their evening meal in the formal dining room, but Amanda so rarely seemed inclined to stand on ceremony, and she _had_ told him to "wait right here."

The broth conjured up further memories of his formative years upon the first sip. It wasn't merely an approximation of the soup his grandmother had made: it was _identical_. He paused before continuing, wishing to wait for his wife and offer his compliments and appreciation.

She returned, but before he spoke, he took note of the tense look of worry embedded in her expression. She was clutching her PADD tightly enough to display a peculiar white color in her knuckles.

"Councilwoman T'Lona wants to meet with me tomorrow," she said. "What do I say?"


	7. Secrets and Birthdays

**May 2228**

The sweat rolling down Amanda's back was a product of the heat made worse by nerves.  _Nothing she could do about it now._

She wanted to appear confident, but that would have been a lie. Councilwoman T'Lona wanted Amanda to meet with her in her office.  _Privately_. She had refused to comment on the reason, even when Amanda asked for details in her return correspondence.

She threw the door of the taxi open and stepped onto the curb, trying to appear relaxed in the presence of an unfamiliar, bustling city center. The heart of Shi'Kahr in the daytime was unlike anything she knew. She was accustomed to the pulse of a busy, crowded city after living in San Francisco, but Vulcans did city living in a manner that was downright impressive in its efficiency.

The walkways were wide and people moved with quick purpose, and nowhere was there the familiar push of elbows, car horns accosting jaywalkers, or occasional curses to pay attention. As her awe at the remarkable deftness of Vulcan vehicular and pedestrian traffic faded, she realized she was committing the sin of being in the way.

She was standing in the middle of a sidewalk that people were walking along, and though they moved past her without saying a word, she could feel dozens of eyes narrow a fraction of a millimeter as they passed her. Dread bubbled up from her stomach as she tried to find her way into the flow of the sidewalk.

The building was easy to spot, just as Sarek said it would be. Tall and narrow, the Vulcan High Council building, referred to as the Shikh'orna, was unlike any of the surrounding structures. It was made of dark stone and resembled something approaching a Gothic cathedral, and she was tempted to look upward to see if there were any gargoyles perched into the upper parts of the masonry.

_No, that would look too weird, and she already stuck out enough._

She moved up the steps to the entrance, waiting to be stopped at any moment by a clerk or security person, but no impediment came. She entered a full lobby and could identify nothing that looked even remotely like an informational desk.

The high walls of the government building arched upward into a steep ceiling and left Amanda feeling smaller than ever before. She was overwhelmed and tired, but more than anything else, she was eager to avoid public humiliation.

She hadn't slept much the night before. She had tried to talk to Sarek about it, but her husband had no theories about the purpose of the councilwoman's request, and refused to speculate about it, since after all, speculation was  _illogical_.

She had hinted that she wanted him to go with her, but he had been adamant in his refusal, citing the fact that the councilwoman's message made no mention of him. She desperately wanted someone to agonize over this nerve-racking request with, but she had married the wrong person and moved to the wrong planet for that.

Her eyes scanned for some kind of posted directory or informational desk until she found something promising. At the end of the lobby was a tiny station, less than a meter wide and staffed by a slender man with sharp features.

She approached him, trying to get the Vuhlkansu words straight in her head, but he beat her to it by asking in perfect English, "Yes?"

"Oh- I'm here to meet with Councilwoman T'Lona."

She was proud that her voice had been firm, clear and free of stammering. Apparently  _he_  was unimpressed. His eyes darted down to the computer terminal below him and he replied, "I know."

They stared at each other for several moments until she added, "Can you tell me where I should go?"

"To the Councilwoman's office."

"I-  _Yes_. Where is it?"

"Down the corridor to the left, though you are twelve minutes early."

That hadn't occurred to Amanda. Vulcans respected efficiency, and in this culture, being on time meant being  _on time_.

"Thank you," she said to the man, remembering to avoid a polite smile at the last moment.

She turned down the hallway to the left and walked slowly, wondering how best to kill twelve minutes without being conspicuous. The foot traffic was much lighter here, and she battled the feeling of insecurity at roaming the corridors of one of Vulcan's highest government office buildings.  _She didn't belong here._

She wandered for a while and checked the local time on her PADD repeatedly, watching the seconds slog into minutes. 0954. 0955. 0956.

She started to panic about what she should do when the hour struck 1000. Should she knock on the door, or would someone come out and receive her?

Suddenly one of the doors opened, piercing the solemn quiet of the long hallway. A familiar woman appeared, and it took Amanda a few moments to identify her. She was not Councilwoman T'Lona, but Minister T'Pau, head of the Vulcan Ministry of Security.

She saw the briefest look of surprise on the minister's face that faded into the definition of neutrality. She clearly hadn't been expecting to find anyone in the hallway.

Amanda remembered T'Pau from her state dinner dossier, and recognized her by her unusual auburn hair, which was dappled partly gray from age. She'd spent decades in every top security position within the Vulcan government, including the V'Shar, Vulcan's Security Directorate, the Vulcan Security Council, and most recently, the head of the Vulcan Ministry of Security.

She was short for a Vulcan, but possessed a sinewy grace and penetrating, amber eyes that gave her a commanding presence. When the woman's eyes fell on Amanda, her heart began to thunder.

T'Pau's head moved slightly down and then back up, taking stock of her in a way that was markedly unsubtle for a Vulcan, reminding Amanda of scornful judge examining a person accused of a heinous crime. It took everything she had to resist the urge to grin as a means of diffusing the tension between them.

Amanda nodded deferentially instead. T'Pau did not return the gesture, but turned right and stalked toward the lobby with a fluid stride.

"Amanda?"

She returned her gaze to the door and saw Councilwoman T'Lona standing in the threshold.

"Yes," she replied, faster than felt natural.

"You are four minutes early."

"I- yes," Amanda admitted, horrified at the red flush she could feel spreading across her cheeks. "I apologize."

"No apology is required. Come," T'Lona said, standing aside to allow Amanda to enter.

It was a brightly lit, impressive room with floors and walls of gray kohv-tukh, a hard mineral much like granite. The overhead light reflected the clear silica in the stone surfaces, making the room seem brighter than it was.

Amanda followed T'Lona to a low desk at the far end of the room, and sat in a hard, high-backed chair as the councilwoman directed.  _It was still warm._

The room was warm too, much warmer than it had been out in the hallway. The moisture on her chest, back, and under her arms began to condense.

All the rules she knew about meetings were invalid here, and without those, she felt rude and robotic. Small talk and handshakes were probably the last thing one of the most important women on Vulcan had time for.

Between the rigid chair and the harsh overhead lighting, Amanda felt like she was facing an interrogation. That's what the detectives on the police holos always did – make the suspect as uncomfortable as possible until they divulged everything. Sometimes they would confess to things they hadn't even done. Councilwoman T'Lona was intimidating enough without the gimmicks, and with the right questions, Amanda could easily see herself inadvertently confessing to being a serial murderer or a war criminal.  _So much for being less nervous around Vulcans._

"Your background in linguistics is impressive."

"Thank you."

"It was not intended as a compliment, merely a statement of fact, but you are welcome."

Amanda recalled her Rosetta Project interview with Tolek two years earlier. That experience had taught her that Vulcan interviews were more of a formality than a discussion about qualifications – Vulcans did their research and made up their minds about candidates before meeting any of them.

So it seemed she was being interviewed, but  _why_?

"Secretary Tolek tells me you were a valuable member of his staff on Project Rosetta."

"Did he?"

She thought again of her interview with Tolek and her heart began to race. It was one of those moments when she desperately wished she had Sarek's gift for recall, because she couldn't remember exactly what Tolek had said, but he never had told Amanda never knew who recommended her for the position.

She'd  _asked_ , of course, but he refused to give an answer, and had said things like, "someone who knows how good you are at Romulan referred you to me" and "someone with a good reason to finish the universal translator wanted you on this project."

"Yes," T'Lona replied, her bright blue eyes bearing down hard on Amanda. "He claims you are possessing of a very unique ability with the Romulan language."

Weren't those the exact words Tolek had used? "Unique ability?" She couldn't be certain. A few beads of sweat ran down her back and she prayed she wouldn't leave a wet puddle in the chair.

"Well, I guess it's fair to say I'm better than most," Amanda admitted. "But most people don't know any Romulan at all."

"You also taught at the Federation diplomatic school."

"Yes."

_What did_ that _have to do with anything?_

"How many students did you have?"

"Eight."

"Were they all human?"

"No."

Amanda got the feeling Councilwoman T'Lona already knew the answers to the questions she was asking, which only made the feeling she was being interrogated that much worse. She felt tempted to expand on her answers, but the rapid-fire style of questioning made one-word responses feel safest.

"Have you traveled off-world much?"

"Vulcan is the only other planet I've visited besides Earth."

"Have you interacted with many other Federation species?"

"Yes."

"In what capacity?"

"I worked at the embassy complex for nearly two years, and since marrying the ambassador I have met species from many Federation worlds."

"Only Federation worlds?"

Her heart skipped a beat. Was she possibly referring to Amanda and Sarek's encounter with the Romulan warbird captain?

She took a slight breath and explained, "I've encountered quite a few Coridans, and I met two Orion traders once. Maybe there have been others – my memory isn't perfect."

She expected an immediate follow-on question, but T'Lona nodded her head slightly and asked, "Do you have hobbies?"

Amanda nearly choked.

" _Hobbies_?"

"Yes, preferred activities performed outside of one's standard employment."

"I suppose everyone has hobbies," she replied, trying to keep irritation out of her voice.

"Would you share with me some of yours?"

She blinked and tried to collect her focus. Her fragile confidence was all but gone.  _What was the purpose of all this?_

"Um, I recently took up gardening and cooking," she explained, suddenly feeling very unsophisticated. "I've also had a lifelong interest in language learning."

"You married the Vulcan ambassador to Earth."

"Yes."

"Do you possess any aptitude for politics and diplomacy?"

"No, not really."

"Fascinating."

Amanda stared at the woman's fixed gaze and felt goose bumps prickle her skin.

"May I ask- forgive me, what is all of this about?"

"I wished to become better acquainted with you."

"I see," Amanda replied.

A very Vulcan response, especially since asking  _why_  T'Lona wanted to get to know her better would sound rude.

"Thank you for meeting with me, Amanda."

_That was it?_

The Councilwoman rose from her chair and Amanda followed her example. They walked toward the door, and Amanda got the distinct feeling she'd failed somehow, that she'd been inventoried and found lacking. Had she said the wrong thing or offended her?

"Amanda, I would ask you not to discuss our meeting with anyone."

"I already told Sa- my husband I was meeting with you, and the man at the front desk-"

"There are many who know that you came to meet with me today; all I ask is that you not disclose what we discussed."

They hadn't discussed  _anything_ , aside from her linguistics chops, her stint as a schoolteacher, and her hobbies.

"Of course," Amanda replied.

She shuffled through the door and it shut immediately behind her. The standard moments of pleasantries upon parting were clearly not in the Vulcan custom. She walked down the quiet hall, trying to comprehend what had just happened.

She wanted to talk to Sarek –  _he_  would know. She was about to reach for her PADD when she stopped. T'Lona said not to discuss the meeting with  _anyone_. The human side of her wanted to say that surely that didn't extend to her husband, but by the Vulcan perspective she was growing accustomed to, she understood that "anyone" was a blanket statement to apply to literally any one person, which would certainly include her husband.  _Sometimes she really hated logic._

How could she not tell her husband? She told him everything.

Well, not  _everything_.

Over dinner last night, she hadn't managed to choke out her desire to start a family, but in hindsight, she was grateful. That wasn't the kind of discussion she wanted to spring on her husband at random, and she wanted to do more in depth research on exactly what would be required for them to conceive.

She stepped out of the Shikh'orna and gasped. The late morning heat slapped her in the face and gave her a feeling of momentary faintness. She trudged down the stairs and waited to merge into the orderly foot traffic on the sidewalk, and made her way to a nearby bench to sit down.

She extracted her PADD from her shoulder bag to call a taxi, but was surprised to see she had a message from Sarek. He was leaving the Academy for the day and was willing take her home when she was finished with the Councilwoman.

She sent him a quick message in reply, and less than ten minutes later, the black shuttlecar pulled up to the curb. She ducked into the passenger seat and smiled.

"Why are you going home so early?"

"I am to meet with the caretaker for the estate to make arrangements for our absence."

"Oh," she replied, leaning her head against the door panel.

She could sense Sarek's curiosity through their bond, and she wondered if he could sense hers.

"Sarek?"

"Yes?"

"Councilwoman T'Lona… does she know?"

" _About the Romulan vessel and our encounter with Llhran_?" Sarek finished telepathically.

Amanda started and looked him in shock. It had been a long time since they'd talked in this way, and she felt out of practice. It also worried her he would choose this method of communication. What was so secretive about the councilwoman that he didn't even want to talk out loud in a private car?

" _Yeah_ ," she finally answered, reaching out to his mind.

" _May I ask why you wish to know_?"

" _Would it be illogical to assume that answering a question with a question helps affirm my suspicions_?"

" _It would be_."

" _But does she know_?"

" _What gives you cause to think that she does_?"

" _The conversation I just had with her. I think she recommended me to Tolek for Project Rosetta_."

" _What did you discuss with her_?"

" _She told me not to tell anyone_."

" _Then I am not entitled to know_."

" _You're not even a little curious_?"

" _My curiosity is irrelevant – if she requested you keep your conversation private, you should honor her request_."

" _She didn't_ order _me to_ ," Amanda argued. " _It was more like she strongly suggested_."

" _You are tending toward the fallacy of exception – it is evident you wish to tell me, and you are seeking a logical justification to do so, despite comprehending that it would be untoward_."

" _You do it sometimes, you know, do as you please and justify it with logic later_."

" _I do not_."

She couldn't help the laugh that escaped her lips. His denial sounded more like the argument of petulant child than a seasoned ambassador. Sarek glanced at her and Amanda could tell he was sensing her thoughts. She stared back at him with smug defiance.

" _The point is that you should not betray Councilwoman T'Lona's confidence_."

" _Are there lots of things you don't tell me_?"

" _I imagine there are many things which escape your notice that I fail to inform you about, due to triviality or supposed lack of interest. There certainly are details of my position as ambassador that I cannot disclose to you, due to their sensitive nature_."

" _Like Councilwoman T'Lona knowing that we both know that Vulcans and Romulans share a common ancestry because we unwillingly went joyriding on a commandeered Romulan warbird_?"

Sarek's eyes again found Amanda. " _I did not confirm your theory_."

" _Yes, but you didn't deny it either_."

" _Denial is not the same as confirmation_."

" _No, not in a court of law, and not even by logical standards, but there is a strong association, yes_?"

She caught a third, sidelong glance from her husband.

"I feel weird keeping secrets from you," she said aloud.

"Perhaps we should find a different topic of discussion."

"Fine," Amanda sighed. "How was  _your_  day?"

"Uneventful."

"Great," Amanda groaned. "Good discussion."

"You are agitated. Why?"

"I'm not. I don't know. I'm sorry. Tell me about your uneventful morning. Tell me what's going on in the world of politics or astrophysics."

"Minister T'Pau refused the vacant seat on the Federation Council," Sarek replied. "I do not believe anyone has ever done so."

"T'Pau, the head of the Vulcan Ministry of Security?"

"Yes."

"When did this happen?"

"It was announced just moments before I arrived to collect you."

"Weird, because I saw her leaving Councilwoman T'Lona's office right before I got there."

She could sense Sarek's curiosity beginning to peak off the charts, and through their bond he asked, " _Did you speak with her_?"

" _I guess we both have our secrets_ ," Amanda replied, half teasing, half not.

Vulcan politics didn't really interest Amanda, and she only tried to keep informed of the most important and general details because of her marriage to Sarek. She'd always suspected Vulcans were just as nosey, gossipy, and catty as other species, they just went about it in different ways. Observing these qualities in her husband only made her love him more.

"I should start getting things together for our trip to Risa when we get home," she said, reaching for the fingers of his left hand.

The pleasant feeling produced by the ozh'esta made her smile, and when he looked at her, his eyes were questioning.

_She didn't like keeping anything from her husband._

* * *

Amanda would turn twenty-seven years of age tomorrow. The anniversary of his wife's birth was unremarkable to him – Vulcans did not celebrate birthdays – but he knew it was important to her.

Tomorrow they were to journey to Risa for discussions with Ithenite representatives, and he would be less capable of marking the occasion in a meaningful way during their travels. He also knew that where human romantic attachments were concerned, surprises were often well received, and therefore it seemed logical to attempt to celebrate her birthday on a day she would not expect it.

He had returned early from the Vulcan Science Academy to find Amanda napping. She'd been working long hours in the garden in recent weeks, and Vulcan's harsh climate often quickly tapped her stores of energy. He seized the opportunity to prepare pre-tarmeeli for dinner, which he knew to be her favorite Vulcan dish.

He set the formal dining table, choosing to position them closer together in a more intimate fashion, rather than an opposite ends. When the place settings were arranged and the food was ready, he made his way to the entry hall and removed the box from the top of the closet.

_His present to her._

Sarek knew it was appropriate to offer a gift on the birthdays of friends and loved ones, according to human traditions. It had taken several days to locate, but his choice seemed suitable.

Her new interest in gardening, coupled with many of his memories of her had served as inspiration. One of their first encounters had been at San Francisco's hanging gardens, and he had come upon her on a wooden bench surrounded by pink climbing rose bushes. After they married, she kept several species of freshly cut roses in the house to "add color," as she liked to say.

He didn't understand the human proclivity for cutting away the reproductive organs of live plants for adornment, but when he thought of roses, he thought of Amanda.

The small box in his hands contained packets of seeds for eleven varieties of Terran roses that had been genetically modified to grow in Vulcan's arid climate. Though this was a small gesture, he wanted the presence of roses in their home to give her the familiarity of Earth he knew she missed.

He heard the clicking of I-Chaya's nails on the smooth stone floor, and turned to see his wife rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Her hair was tousled and she wore nothing but a thin shirt and her underwear. His eyes lingered on the slope of her nipples and petite breasts through the soft fabric.

" _Ah_!"

Her brief shock radiated through him. Her eyes widened and she jumped, but then she clutched her chest and began to laugh.

"What are you doing home so early? You scared me half to death."

"Death?"

"Yes, never mind, it's just an expression," she interrupted, striding toward him to embrace their fingers together.

She drew her lips to his, and as she bridged the gap between their bodies, areas of his mind that were normally kept under tight control began to rebel against his discipline.

"You should confine yourself to private areas of the house when dressed in this manner," he said softly.

"You don't seem to mind," she argued, running her hands down the small of his back.

"I might have invited colleagues home."

"But you didn't, did you?"

"No, but-"

"Then I guess if you  _had_ , they would have gotten a show."

He looked at her carefully, teasing apart the emotions close to the surface.  _She was jesting._

"What's this?" she asked, noting the small box in his hand.

"It is for you, to celebrate the anniversary of your birth."

Her lips parted, leaving her mouth agape with wonder. She looked at him keenly, and deeper emotions began to rush through her.

"You got me a birthday present?"

"Yes."

"Can I open it now, or should I wait?"

"I had intended to give it to you after dinner, which has been prepared and is ready in the dining room."

"You cooked dinner too?"

"Yes."

"And you did this for my birthday?"

"I thought I made that clear."

Excess moisture began to form on the surface of her eyes, and she looked to the ceiling and then at him. She kissed him lightly on the lips, and then examined the box. She flipped open the lid and her brow furrowed in curiosity as she considered the packets of seeds.

"Seeds for your garden, for rosebushes. The varieties are Terran in origin, but are capable of growing here."

She stared intently at one of the clear bags and a tear fell down her left cheek. He believed he erred in his choice as she returned the packet to the box and closed the lid.

"If I have-"

The warm press of her mouth on his ended his sentence.

"It's perfect," she said when she finally pulled away. " _Thank you_ , Sarek. It might be the most thoughtful present I've ever received."

He felt Amanda's presence in his mind with sharp clarity, which reminded him of their courtship when she so freely shared herself with him. She had grown distant in recent months, shielding her thoughts with increasing ease, but in this moment, her mind was open and her body was caught in his embrace, and together they were mutually content. They lingered in that way, but soon he sensed anxiety and longing pooling at the fringes of his consciousness.

"You wish to speak to me? You want something from me."

She reeled back in surprise, and her mind began to grow quieter.

"Um, there was something- this  _is_ , actually, but no, not tonight. Tonight I just want to be with you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact - the end of this chapter directly intersects with a one-shot I wrote titled, _[Amanda Explains](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7753195)_. The next chapter will pick up with their return to Vulcan, so consider that story a "director's cut," if you will. It's not necessary to read if you don't want to, but it's there if you do.


	8. Figuring Things Out

**June 2228**

_Ek-nala-dahsau-magu_.

Amanda gawked at the word and felt her eyelids droop. She yawned and pivoted to the computer terminal and performed a dictionary search – her 137th such search that afternoon.

Ek-nala-dahsau-magu meant  _mitotic spindle_.

Vague recollections of undergraduate science classes did little to shed light on the English translation of the meaty Vulcan word, so she toggled to the science databases and searched for "mitotic spindle."

A structure consisting of microtubules that segregates chromosomes during mitosis and meiosis. See also: centrosome, centromere, kinetochore microtubule, astral-

Amanda's head lolled back to her PADD to continue reading.

_Mitosis. Meiosis. Centrosome. Centromere._

The slurry of science hadn't changed her mind about having a child, but it made her grateful she'd chosen a path in linguistics instead of medicine.

They'd been back from Risa for a week and Sarek still had no idea Amanda yearned for a baby. They'd spent a romantic night together following a formal banquet and Amanda had joked about him "putting a bun in the oven," but Sarek hadn't understood the idiom, and she had lost her nerve when he asked for clarification.

Perhaps it was because Vulcans were so weird about sex. She and Sarek had certainly grown comfortable with one another – there was no singular place on her body he wasn't intimately familiar with – but sex for Vulcans was very private. Using reproductive technology would expose a private part of their lives to the outside.

She decided to take a different approach and arm herself with information. Her husband had a keen appreciation for science and admired initiative, and if she ever did manage to sit him down one day and choke it all out, she wanted to sound educated.

She started broadly. It made sense to assume that if there were Vulcan healers that treated infertility, then at least  _some_  Vulcans managed to get over their deeply held sexual taboos and talk about sex in a place other than a private home behind three locked doors. Statistically, Vulcans suffered from infertility with the same incidence as humans, both males and females.

This research led her to three physicians in Shi'Kahr who specialized in recombinant reproductive therapy, which was what she would need to conceive a child with Sarek. She deliberated between contacting their offices and telling her husband first, and settled for investigating the specific procedure, and five hours later, jargon littered her mind.

It came down to their chromosomes. Humans and Vulcans both had forty-six chromosomes – two pairs of twenty-three – but there were significant differences in the sizes of certain chromosomes, the locations of specific genes, and the presence or absence of certain genes that would made it impossible to naturally conceive a viable child.

She skimmed through long passages about translocation, deletion, duplication, and silencing before finding an instructional video made by Earth scientists who had created a hybrid of two species of ground squirrels. One species was critically endangered, and researchers had successfully used selective recombinant technology to cross the two species while mostly maintaining the genetic integrity of the endangered squirrel.

It wasn't an  _exact_  model, but it was close enough to help her understand. They would modify the chromosomes in her eggs to be a closer match to Sarek's in a series of procedures that would take six to nine months using something called methylated plasmid vectors. The procedure would be irreversible, but that didn't bother her.

What was most interesting was that the child would almost completely take after the father as a result of modifying the mother's eggs. If their species were reversed – if she was Vulcan and Sarek was human – their child would be more human. There would be many remaining human characteristics, but it wouldn't be technically correct to say that the child would be  _exactly_  half human and half Vulcan either.

There were a lot of things that could go wrong, such as malformations and cancer, many of which were surgically correctable. Early attempts with these methods had resulted in many miscarriages or children who died shortly after birth, but in the past twenty years, techniques had been greatly perfected. In the process of creating hybrid human children, scientists had learned things about the human genome that allowed them to cure or treat several previously fatal diseases.

She found evidence of twenty-three other human-Vulcan hybrids in the medical literature and she desperately wanted to meet one, and the parents. Even if their names and addresses were publicly available, she couldn't imagine how such a meeting would go.

_Hi, I'm Amanda – I'm thinking about making one of these for myself and just wanted to see what the final product was like…_

_Not so much._

It was a shame that "Vulcan support group" was an oxymoron.

She wasn't thinking about making the perfect child – no one could or  _should_  be perfect – but she had more holistic questions aside from the basic biology. What was the child's life be like? How did other Vulcans view them? How did other humans view them? Would they happy? What was it like to raise a child wedged between two extremely different cultures?

She realized her escape into broad anthropological questions was probably an indication she should call it quits for the day. T'Pol was due to arrive soon anyway, and she wanted to tidy up the common areas of the house.

She had just finished dusting up the last of the pet hair when the door buzzed. T'Pol looked…  _different_. Normally she wore a simple linen shirt and loose slacks, a practical choice for a gardener, yet today she was clothed in a dark purple tunic and formal dress pants. Her hair was neatly groomed and her nails were trimmed and free of the usual dirt in the cuticles.

"You look so nice!" Amanda exclaimed as she opened the door to allow T'Pol inside.

She immediately felt stupid, wondering if she implied that T'Pol didn't  _usually_  look nice.

"Thank you," the woman replied, stepping over the threshold and tucking her hands behind her back.

"Are you coming from somewhere special?"

"I met with a longstanding acquaintance prior to my arrival."

"Oh,  _well_ … how have you been? It's been a few weeks since I last saw you."

T'Pol seemed to regard the question as odd, but answered, "I have been well. I trust your visit to Risa was agreeable?"

"It was a beautiful place," Amanda agreed. "Sarek stayed busy with negotiations most of the time, but I got to spend a few days on the beach; it was almost like a vacation. Have you ever been?"

"Many times."

"Would you like some tea?"

"That would be acceptable. Thank you for your hospitality."

Amanda grinned to herself as T'Pol followed her to the kitchen. She used to wonder if Sarek was just abnormally formal when they first met, but she was beginning to believe that primness was just an ingrained Vulcan trait. No one would ever accuse Vulcans of being impolite, but nor would they accuse them of being casual.

Amanda preferred old-fashioned methods for brewing tea: there was something that felt pure about heating the water and allowing leaves to steep. Thanks to T'Pol, she had theris thriving in her garden now, and the sweet leaves were often dried to produce a popular herbal tea called theris-masu.

She began to sort through the kitchen for the necessary supplies, and T'Pol seated herself at the small breakfast table.

"Did you not have the opportunity to experience diplomatic negotiations between the Ithenites and the Coridans during your visit to Risa?" T'Pol asked.

"Huh? Oh,  _no_ ," Amanda laughed. "Sarek's the diplomat, I'm just… you know…"

She waved her hands around and shrugged as she began filling a kettle with water.

"Do politics and diplomacy not interest you?"

Amanda frowned and glanced at T'Pol. She was sitting perfectly straight with her hands folded neatly on the tabletop, eyeing Amanda with curious intensity.

"Not really, to be honest. I know they're important,  _obviously_ , but that kind of stuff is really Sarek's area of expertise."

She set the kettle on the stove and pulled her box of dried tealeaves from the overhead cabinet.

"Speaking of Sarek, he got me some genetically modified seeds for rosebushes. Any ideas on the best way to plant them?"

"Even on Earth, many varieties of roses can be difficult to cultivate. Many prefer slightly acidic soil, so if you seek to plant them directly in the ground, you will need to balance the pH first."

"Good to know," Amanda grinned, watching the water closely.

Theris leaves made the best tea when the water was at a very gentle boil. She pulled the kettle from the heat and put the leaves into the strainer.

"Thank you so much for all of your help with the gardening stuff."

"You are welcome. I find there is serenity in working in the soil."

"It's not very serene for me," Amanda admitted with a small laugh. "It's sweaty, aching,  _rewarding_  hard work. I like the feeling of – I don't know – making things come alive? It's a good way to stay busy."

"Are you very often unoccupied?"

" _Unoccupied_  is my default state," Amanda chuckled, pulling two teacups down from an upper shelf. "Every day is a fight to become  _un_ unoccupied. I've been-"

She paused, wondering if it was appropriate to discuss having a child with a woman she was still getting to know. T'Pol's eyes were patient and inquisitive, and Amanda felt her face growing red.

"I've been thinking it would be nice to have a baby."

"That is understandable. I believe you are at the peak of the reproductive years for your species."

She couldn't contain her nervous laughter at such a  _Vulcan_  comment.

"I just can't figure out how to tell my husband," she admitted.

"I am sure you will find a means of doing so."

" _Yeah_ ," Amanda sighed, pouring the tea and joining T'Pol at the table. "Did you ever have kids?"

" _Yes_ … a daughter."

" _Oh_ , what does she do?"

"She did not survive infancy."

Her blood ran cold. She gaped at her friend, gulping and mumbling a series of incoherent apologies.

"You were merely attempting to make polite conversation as is customary for humans," T'Pol said. "You did not know."

Her voice was level but her eyes were somehow far away, gazing at the wall over Amanda's left shoulder.

"It was such a weird way for me to phrase a question. I'm- I'm  _so_  sorry, T'Pol."

"You were not responsible for her death."

Amanda clutched her teacup, uncertain how to climb out of the massive hole she'd just dug for herself. She felt an irresistible urge to show empathy in some way, but she couldn't sense what would be appropriate for T'Pol. She'd always thought the death of a child was one of the cruelest crimes of nature, and surely not even Vulcans could approach such a tragedy with reserved stoicism.

"Still, I'm very sorry for your loss," Amanda explained, her voice hardly rising above a whisper.

T'Pol's eyes narrowed with nostalgic sadness. She took a sip of her tea and looked at Amanda and replied, "Thank you."

Amanda returned a weak nod and took a sip from her own cup.

"If you are seeking ways to occupy your time, perhaps you would be interested in playing logic games," T'Pol mused.

"Logic games?"

The wide shift in the subject matter was startling, but she was grateful.

"Rufai-tor is quite stimulating, as is kal-toh."

"You're asking  _me_  to play a logic game with a Vulcan?" she asked in disbelief.

"You may surprise yourself."

Amanda frowned but couldn't help her curiosity. She agreed, and T'Pol extracted a deck of cards from her bag. Amanda became engrossed in the game's complexities. Though there was a fair amount of logic, rufai-tor seemed to rely more on memory and deception.

It blended elements from a number of old-fashioned Earth games like liar's dice and poker. Of a deck of eighty cards containing five suits, eight cards were placed face up on the table and each player drew four cards. Each round, two cards from the deck would be turned over, and each player could ask a question about the other player's cards. The first player to correctly determine their opponent's cards won the game.

T'Pol slaughtered Amanda each time, which only made her thirst for the game grow. She wasn't very competitive, but it was more a matter of pride. She sometimes felt simple compared to her husband, not because he ever made her feel that way, but because his intelligence constantly  _seeped_  out, even when he wasn't aware.

They had been married for nearly a year, but very few days went by when his intellect didn't astound her. He could clearly recall conversations he'd had forty years ago and perform complex mathematical operations in his head while she often felt like she struggled to remember what she ate for breakfast that morning or felt compelled to reach for a calculator to perform addition when enough digits were involved.

"Green eight, green fifteen, red four, and yellow one," T'Pol said, delivering an itemized list of the cards in Amanda's hands.

Amanda tossed them on the table in disgust and put her head down. Not only was it her ninth consecutive loss, she hadn't been able to venture a guess at even  _one_  of the cards in T'Pol's hand.

"Perhaps we should cease-"

"No," Amanda interjected. " _Again_."

* * *

Sarek's mind turned carefully, but it was evident he lacked sufficient information to make any significant deductions. Each time he considered the limited facts, he did not get far before venturing into speculation.

A morning press release announced that Councilwoman T'Lona was to fill the vacant position on the Federation Council that Minister T'Pau had refused. She was an unusual choice, as the Councilwoman had little documented interplanetary experience, having spent her entire bureaucratic career in service to Vulcan.

It was the sort of peculiar news that would generate much analysis throughout Vulcan's political and diplomatic circles. It was being discussed behind closed doors between close friends and associates all over the planet: he knew this because he already had several casual inquiries from people he had not spoken with in decades attempting to trade knowledge.

Amanda would call it gossip: Sarek disagreed.

Gossip implied the discussion of trivial things between parties of constantly shifting alliance for personal gratification, often relating to judgment over life choices or private habits. Government was not trivial; therefore, these discussions were merely quiet exchanges of information.

He knew very little, and what he  _did_  know, he kept to himself because he was concerned for his wife.

Councilwoman T'Lona had asked to meet with Amanda on the day Minister T'Pau refused the Federation Council seat, and the councilwoman had also met with T'Pau that same morning.

It was certainly possible that the meeting of the two Vulcan women was mere coincidence – they occupied positions of significant power and there were innumerable reasons they might meet in an official capacity. Yet T'Lona's desire to speak with Amanda was puzzling.

As far as anyone was concerned, she was simply a human woman who had formerly been a schoolteacher. This was not  _untrue_ , and he had never corrected anyone who spoke of her qualifications in this way.

T'Lona was one of a few Vulcans who had a broader view of Amanda. It had been T'Lona who visited Sarek in the hospital to take his official statement after their rescue from the commandeered Romulan vessel. When he told her Vulcans and Romulans shared a common ancestor, she admitted that she already knew, and that the information was known to select officials in the highest levels of the Vulcan government.

Given that Sarek and Amanda had been rescued together, T'Lona easily deduced that Amanda knew of the Vulcan-Romulan connection – Amanda had provided the rudimentary translations which had made their escape possible – and T'Lona had enlisted Sarek's help in securing Amanda's silence. Amanda had been  _extremely_  reluctant to lie to the Federation officials that had taken her statement about the incident two years ago, but she'd eventually agreed.

Amanda had kept the secret, and so T'Lona's renewed interest in his wife was…  _odd_.

Though he hadn't shared what he knew with anyone else, he had learned things throughout the course of the afternoon that only deepened the mystery.

_Minister T'Pau was missing._

She wasn't missing in an  _official_  capacity, but on the day Amanda had seen her at T'Lona's office, she had taken a leave of absence from the Vulcan Security Ministry. Her temporary replacement refused to offer explanation, citing only "private reasons," and no one on her staff was willing to speak on the matter, even to close associates.

Though he disliked contradicting himself or invading his wife's privacy, it seemed sensible to ask Amanda about her conversation with the councilwoman. It was late afternoon and he had many things to attend to, but he delegated what he could to subordinates and put off the rest until the following day.

When he arrived home, there was a small black vehicle in the front circular driveway. He did not recognize it and was not expecting visitors.

When he entered the house through the rear garage entry, he heard Amanda call his name. He found her in the kitchen, seated at the breakfast table with an older Vulcan woman.

"You're home early," Amanda said, rising from her seat. "T'Pol, this is my husband, Ambassador Sarek."

He exchanged greetings with her, considering the woman at length. Amanda had mentioned making a friend who worked at a nearby nursery named T'Pol, which was unremarkable, given "T'Pol" was a fairly common name. He was certain he had never met her, but the woman before him was familiar in a way he could not define.

"T'Pol's been helping me with the garden," Amanda explained.

"Yes, my wife mentioned you owned a nursery. Have you owned your business long?"

She was not dressed as he expected someone in her profession might dress.

"No, I only purchased the nursery fourteen years ago."

"Are you from Shi'Kahr?"

"My family is from Shi'Kahr, but I spent much of my life off-world."

It would be rude to continue to pry into the personal life of his wife's friend, a woman he had just met. He noticed the pile of cards on the table when T'Pol shifted her weight.

"You are playing rufai-tor?"

"Yes, it's interesting," Amanda admitted. "I'm awful at it, but T'Pol's been a patient teacher."

Rufai-tor was a popular pastime, particularly with bureaucrats and academics. It was admired for its simplicity: it was a game of sheer logic, memory, and the ability to deceive without being deceived. The purpose of rufai-tor was not mastery of any strategy or rules, but mastery of an opponent. One could train against specific individuals, but consistently beating new opponents required rare talent which few possessed.

Sarek excelled at the game, since the skills required for the rufai-tor were also relevant to negotiation and interrogation techniques.

"Perhaps I should leave," T'Pol said with a deferential nod. "I do not wish to overstay my welcome."

They said their goodbyes and Amanda thanked her for coming, but as T'Pol's shuttle pulled down the driveway, she turned to glare at him.

"What was  _that_  about?"

"I do not take your meaning."

"You were…  _rude_ , almost. Maybe not rude, but not very welcoming."

"That was not my intention."

"She's the only friend I have within sixteen light years."

"What do you know about her?"

"She works in a nursery. She's a retired Starfleet captain. She was actually-"

"She was a Starfleet captain?"

"Yes, she was also the first officer of the  _Enterprise_. She was even at the signing of the Federation charter. Why?"

She was  _that_  T'Pol, known to most Vulcans for her part in the Vulcan reformation and dissolution of the militaristic High Command during the previous century, though those events were often mistakenly credited to T'Pau alone.

_How had Amanda come to be friends with a close associate of T'Pau?_

Amanda walked to the kitchen and he followed her closely, asking, "How did you meet T'Pol?"

"I told you – at the nursery."

"But you met her by chance?"

His wife's face contorted into confusion. "Yes? I wanted to buy some plants, I went to a nursery, I met her, she sold me some plants, and we became friends. Why are you acting so weird?"

"I do not believe I am acting…  _weird,_ as you say. I was simply curious about your friendship."

Amanda turned to the refrigeration unit and began extracting the remains of the previous evening's dinner. He set to work cutting fresh vegetables for a salad while Amanda heated their stew.

"There's something I wanted to talk to you about," she said.

He sensed an uptick in her anxiety, though she was still shielding her thoughts from him. He set down the paring knife and took her hand.

"I wished to speak with you also," he explained.

"Oh, well, you go first," she said.

"I wanted to discuss your meeting with Councilwoman T'Lona."

"You said I shouldn't tell you about it."

"I have since altered my position. I cannot require you to tell me, but I am asking you."

"What made you change your mind?" she smiled.

"A curious development in interplanetary politics."

" _What_?"

Amanda laughed but her eyes were serious.

"Councilwoman T'Lona accepted the vacancy on the Federation Council today, a position that was previously offered to Minister T'Pau. You said that you saw T'Pau meeting with T'Lona on the same morning she spoke with you. You also forged a friendship with T'Pol around the same time."

"So what? What does T'Pol have to do with this? Are they all apart of some Vulcan conspiracy?" she joked.

"I do not know."

Fear flashed through her eyes and he began to perceive her mind with greater clarity.

"You're scaring me, Sarek."

"That was not my intention."

"But that's what you're doing. What are you implying? T'Lona and T'Pau are plotting something? They sent T'Pol to spy on me?"

"Your conclusions are speculative."

The stew began to boil and Amanda turned the heat off and removed the pot from the stove, wiping her hands on her pants.

"I don't know how I fit into any of this."

"Neither do I, which is why I am curious what you discussed with Councilwoman T'Lona. You were correct in your assumption that she knows about your knowledge of the common link between Romulans and Vulcans."

Amanda's eyes were dark and deep, and met Sarek's with uncommon force.

"You said you did not want to keep things from me, and I would not prefer to keep anything from you either."

"Ok.  _Well_ , she asked about my background in linguistics, we talked about Tolek and how he said I had a unique ability with Romulan, we talked about the diplomatic school, we talked about  _hobbies_ , which I thought was really strange."

"Hobbies?"

"Yeah, I know. It's  _weird_ , isn't it?"

"Was there anything else?"

"I don't know," she sighed. "Probably. I just don't remember."

"Would you allow me to mind meld with you?"

Amanda balked and barked out a short laugh. They shared a strong mating bond that allowed him to experience her emotions and occasionally perceive her thoughts, but a mind meld was a more specific link that allowed for the immediate transfer of memories, among other things.

"It's been a long time," she said, looking down. "But sure."

She tilted her face up to allow him to place his hand on her cheek, but before his fingers made contact with her skin, she delivered a wan smile.

"I remember how scared I was the first time you did this, but then we shared our first real kiss."

"I recall," he said.

It was a very pleasing memory for him.

"That was all," she said. "You can go ahead now."

He took her face in his palm, and their minds became joined closer than they had been in months. Her mind was very different than it had been two years ago when they had first melded. She had been completely innocent of telepathy then, and her consciousness had been shockingly fluid and pliable.

She had become adept at blocking his mental advances during the past two years, but her mind was still a wondrous place. He held the meld longer than was necessary, and when he released her, she was trembling.

She embraced him almost as if on instinct, and he wrapped his arms around her small waist. He had retrieved the memory of her meeting with T'Lona, but he'd uncovered other things too.

"I'm so sorry, Sarek."

"For what?"

She leaned back and kissed him softly. 

"You explained to me that Vulcans don't really place a lot of value in the physical aspects of intimacy, but I told you that it was an important way for humans to bond."

"Mating with you is enjoyable."

"I definitely agree," she replied, kissing him again. "But I didn't realize how important mental contact was for you."

"I assumed you preferred your privacy and had reasons for withholding your mind from me."

"Well, I  _did_ , or I thought I did, but now I'm realizing that cutting off our mental communication was keeping something from you that you needed in order to be close to me. I'm not trying to keep secrets from you, but there are just some things that are hard to talk about."

"Such as your desire to have a child?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No joke, _ek-nala-dahsau-magu_  really is the word for mitotic spindle in the Vulcan Language Dictionary. Slow clap for the people who put that thing together.


	9. Stirrings

**October 2228**

He inhaled and held the air in his lungs until he felt pulsing warmth spread through his body and then exhaled over a period of thirty seconds. He repeated the process, driving his nervous system into further inactivity, reaching for the serenity of logic locked deeply within his consciousness. He had been at it for four hours. He had difficulty sleeping lately.

He had never kept a strict schedule of meditation, and his expanding diplomatic obligations and his duties on the Astrophysics Advisory Board kept him occupied for long hours each day. The pace of his daily life was beginning to wear on him.

He thought of Amanda asleep in their bedroom and shivered. He began another series of slow breaths and pushed her out of his thoughts. Sarek often fell asleep next to Amanda, only to wake several hours later and meditate in private. If she was aware of his nighttime ruminations, she had never said anything.

While it was true that Vulcans required less sleep than many other species, they had a need for daily meditation. A healthy Vulcan adult might sleep only two to four hours a day, but also required two to four hours of meditation. He had not met these requirements in years, but he could not afford to ignore them any longer.

He stood and stretched his muscles, breathed again, and extinguished the candles. As he was leaving the sparse meditation room, he smashed his bare toes on the doorjamb. Pain raced through his foot, accompanied by a fleeting sensation of rage. He gasped.

_His efforts of the past four hours had been rendered useless by a minor injury._

He hobbled back to his bedroom and joined Amanda between the sheets. He could see the darkness transitioning into dawn through the long glass doors of the private portico off the master suite. The soft light cast a gray silhouette on the edges of her features, and as he took up his place next to her, she rolled over in her sleep, illuminating the whole of her face.

_She was beautiful, and he wanted her._

He slid his finger along the slope of her forehead to brush a stray tendril of hair from her face. She moaned at his touch and he felt his pulse quicken. His fingertips continued to explore the curves of her face, tracing along her jaw and down her chin. She smiled and snuggled closer to him, still fast asleep.

He dismissed an impulse to meld their minds together, choosing instead to pull his hand away from her face and watch her. Her chin inched forward, seeking the comfort of his missing touch.

_How he longed to touch her._

That was the essence of pon farr – the compulsion to be telepathically bonded to a mate. It was an urge so strong that it cast aside logic and civility and left Vulcan males completely vulnerable every seven years.

He had begun to notice the changes in his body the prior month when he experienced occasional lapses in mental discipline and a general feeling of restlessness. Sporadic irritability and insomnia followed, and each day was becoming a conscious struggle to maintain an outward calm.

It would be approximately four more months until the plak tow, the blood fever, emerged. His symptoms would continue to worsen until then, and be joined by erratic mood swings, combativeness, increased arousal, loss of appetite, and eventually, tremendous rage and aggression.

He was curious how his condition would affect Amanda. Bonded Vulcan females often entered a sympathetic pon farr alongside their mates, but he had no way to know how it would affect her physiology. Would she experience the pon farr also? How would it manifest in her? Research on pon farr in  _Vulcans_  was quite limited, and there was nothing in the medical literature about the effect in other species.

Amanda had her own problems as of late. She had not felt well since beginning fertility treatments four months earlier. She did her best to conceal her discomfort, but he knew her better than she supposed. She was often nauseated and tired. She had lost several kilograms and she seemed to be growing sicker as her treatments progressed. He had never seen her so worn and weak and he worried for her, even though worry was illogical.

They shared a strong bond so he knew he would be incapable of hurting her during the culmination of his pon farr, but he was uncertain how she would handle the experience. Cessation of the plak tow involved several days of ritualized mating and telepathic bonding, and he didn't want to traumatize her.

"Sarek?"

Amanda's face was nuzzled into his chest, but he could see her eyes were open.

"Yes?"

"Where'd you go?"

"I spent several hours in meditation. Did I wake you?"

"No, but I woke up and you were gone. It happened the other night too."

"I was attempting to make the most efficient use of my time and meditate while you slept."

She propped herself up on an elbow and ran her free hand along his chest. Her eyes were worn but peaceful, and drifted closed when she leaned forward to kiss him tenderly on the lips.

"Are you ok?" she asked, resting her forehead on his.

He fought another impulse to meld with her and replied, "Specify."

"I'm not sure how to," she admitted. "You seem…  _distant_. Distant even for you, I mean."

She pushed herself up onto her hands and searched his face. He gazed into her dark eyes and repressed a primal urge to touch her. Her brow furrowed and she cocked her head.

"Well, it's almost daylight," she remarked. "Ready for breakfast?"

A short time later they were in the kitchen, working in tandem to prepare a light meal of toast and gespar. Sarek focused on maintaining his inner calm, and Amanda looked as though she was doing her best to avoid vomiting.

She had endured one of her treatments the day before, and despite her cheerful disposition, her pallid complexion and clenched jaw hinted at her true condition.

Sarek was indifferent to the prospect of children, but he knew Amanda held a deep desire to become a mother. She had done substantial research on the procedure necessary for them to conceive a child, and he was willing to do whatever was required to help her achieve her wish. After all, she had sacrificed so much for him.

One thing that remained unresolved was what their children would be  _like_. After Amanda's rudimentary explanation, he performed his own research and discovered there was very limited information. Recombinant genetic engineering in bacterial and animal models was simple enough to understand, but sentience added a unique and complicated aspect.

Because the modifications were being made to Amanda's eggs, the child would be more Vulcan than human, but how much humanity would remain? Did it matter? When he first suspected his affection for his wife two years earlier, the fact that she was human had been a puzzling concept to confront.

As a rule, Vulcans certainly appreciated the infinite diversity in infinite combinations found throughout the universe, but they didn't tend to  _marry_  into that diversity. He was hardly the first Vulcan to take a mate of a different species, but he knew his colleagues still viewed his choice in Amanda to be eccentric.

No one treated his wife hostilely, but no one made any effort to include her in society either. He could never be sure where the blame for that fell since Amanda had a tendency toward introversion, but he suspected Vulcans weren't entirely sure what to do with her.

How would their children be treated? Would they be accepted as Vulcan, or held at a distance along with their human mother? They had yet to discuss how they would raise children, and given how diametrically different their backgrounds were, a blended cultural option would be impossible. One could not embrace logic halfway.

Vulcan youth endured rigorous training from a very early age to learn to master their emotions, and that degree of mental discipline was not something that could be achieved through casual study. In contrast, his own anecdotal experience with human parents demonstrated that humans had low expectations for their offspring, opting for a lackadaisical approach to rearing children that featured experiential learning, imaginative play, and excessive unstructured time.

He almost pitied human children for being born into a culture that demanded they spend their lives figuring out who they should become through a crude process of trial and error. It was even more regrettable that the human lifespan was half that of a Vulcan – so much wasted time and potential lost to unguided self-discovery.

An alarming and painful wave of melancholy swept over him. Even with his weakened heart, he was certainly going to outlive his wife. He felt angry at his loss of emotional control, and then grappled with the irony of being angry about an inability to repress sadness.

Despite his apathy about having children, he was forced to acknowledge the idea that offspring provided a means for individuals to live on in another way – an arrangement equal parts selfish and unselfish.

In a peculiar moment of absentmindedness, he released his grip on the gespar he was slicing and reached for Amanda's hand. She cocked her head and offered a content smile, and his desire to meld with her resurfaced. He recoiled, causing her happy expression to fade. His sadness remained and was now present in Amanda's face as well.

As they sat down to eat, his PADD buzzed and he excused himself to answer it. Varen, his secretary at the Vulcan consulate on Earth, would need to travel to Earth the following week due to "personal reasons."

He considered his options. Though Sarek retained his post as ambassador, Varen was his senior staff member at the consulate, and his absence would be detrimental. He had not been to Earth since his move to Vulcan: a visit to the planet was overdue.

"What was that about?" Amanda asked, spreading nei-savas jelly on a piece of dense bread.

"I intend to travel to Earth in the near future, possibly as soon as next week."

She offered a weak smile before indulging in a bite of her bread.

"Perhaps a visit to your home world would be welcome."

"I  _do_  miss it," she admitted. "How long do you think you'll stay?"

"I do not have an itinerary at the moment, but I intend to stay for several weeks."

He sensed her mind turning over in deliberation, and noted the conflict on her face.

"I would  _love_  to go," she explained. "I miss you and I miss Earth. I know my mom would love to see me, but I have nine more weeks of these treatments left. I don't think I can just leave in the middle of it."

"If that is your choice, I respect it," he replied.

She sighed and set her head down on the table.

"Are you well?"

"Yes," Amanda said, dragging herself to an upright position. "I'm just having a human moment."

He supposed she implied she was feeling particularly emotional, though he could not infer the specific cause.

"Explain."

"I miss you all the time. I feel like I miss you  _right now_ , and you're sitting across the table from me."

"Can you propose a remedy?"

" _No_ ," she sighed. "You just seem different. Maybe it's me: maybe  _I'm_  different."

"I know you have not been feeling well," he replied.

"I'm fine."

"Fine has variable definitions."

She smirked and took another bite of her toast.

"If you don't hurry, you'll be late," she remarked.

Amanda was correct. They finished their breakfast in silence, though Sarek couldn't help but notice her small bites and graying complexion. When he stood to bid her goodbye, she nodded and stood also, but clamped her hand over her mouth and fled to the bathroom.

He wished there was more he could do for her, but he also understood that some paths in life were destined to be walked alone.

* * *

"Ugh," she moaned. " _Let me die_."

The sound of splashing on porcelain interrupted her miserable soliloquy. Her head hung in the toilet and a string of saliva dripped down her chin. Her stomach was in knots and the sensation of blood pulsing through her temples only grew worse.

She was more than halfway done – only nine more treatments left to go.  _Nine more weeks of hell._

The side effects of the recombinant gene therapy were gruesome. She was perpetually nauseated, exhausted, and irritable, and though she did her best to hide it from Sarek, she knew that  _he knew_  how miserable she was.

He seemed to be avoiding her more and more, and she didn't know how to convey to him that she wanted his company, now more than ever. For all of Sarek's wonderful qualities, he wasn't the type to cuddle, stroke her hair, and whisper in her ear that everything would be all right.

She stood, causing the remaining liquid in her stomach to churn. Another bout of sickness hit and she sunk to her knees, clutching the side of the toilet in wretched despair. There was nothing left to throw up so she gagged, causing involuntary tears to stream down her cheeks.

A short time later she managed to make it back to the kitchen and sipped water to relieve her mouth of the acid taste. Even the water made her sick.

She took deep breaths, wondering if it was worth taking a play from Sarek's book and trying the whole mind over matter thing. She'd stand on her head and whistle if there were even a shred of scientific evidence that it would make her feel better.

She ventured to the sitting room and turned on the holo screen and was greeted by a pale Vulcan woman delivering the news in a dry, unaffected voice. There were nearly a dozen Federation stations and Earth boasted more than twelve hundred independent channels, but Vulcan had only four: one devoted to local government, one that covered science, one for interplanetary news, and an arts and culture channel that was as fascinating as it was boring.

She never would have assumed that Vulcans were partial to mindless entertainment – she often thought it was a shame there was no such thing as a Vulcan sitcom – but the previous week, the arts station had shown a program featuring people delivering some sort of invocation, like a Vulcan analog of Gregorian monks. It lasted for four days.

_Not exactly the stuff that made Vulcan parents worry about rotting their kids' brains._

She rarely watched any programming, but as she was so often alone, sometimes it was nice just to hear the sound of other voices, and it also helped her with conversational Vuhlkansu. She was about to have a seat when she caught a glimpse of something through the glass wall of the atrium.

_It was green_. Some of the native Vulcan plants in her garden were green, but unlike many Earth plants, most were a dark, mossy color. T'Pol had explained that the wavelengths of light from Vulcan's star that passed through the planet's thinner atmosphere affected the evolution of the indigenous plant life, making many species red, orange, or brownish in color. Yet what she was looking at was green like the grass and trees and bushes of Earth.

_Her rosebushes were beginning to grow._

She stepped outside to investigate her new seedlings but was slapped by the unforgiving Vulcan climate. It was now autumn on Vulcan and only the middle of the morning, and though the heat was mild compared to other times, it was vicious to her weakened physical state. She'd grown accustomed to living with queasiness and dizzy spells, and trudged forward to have a quick peek.

There were thirteen plants, all about four centimeters tall. The rich emerald color of the leaves spoke of home and provoked a sense of nostalgia she was unprepared for. They were wilting in the hot, dry soil, so she grabbed a water can from the garage and gave them a long drink.

This simple task fatigued her, and she felt annoyed at just how delicate and weak she'd become. She slumped onto the couch and began to doze, but the buzzing of the door startled her awake.

T'Pol had come, dressed in a beautiful blue tunic. Amanda had only seen her a handful of times in the past several months, and despite Sarek's vague concerns about her newfound friendship, T'Pol was one of the few things keeping her sane.

"This is for you," she said, offering a black, cylindrical canister to Amanda.

"It's good to see you," Amanda replied, forcing a smile. "And thank you. What is this?"

"Bar-ka-got. It is a medicinal tea. I know you have been feeling…  _under the weather_."

"Under the weather?" Amanda chuckled.

"Ill."

"Yes, I know. It's just a very  _human_  expression," she mumbled, pulling the lid from the flask.

It was like peppermint, sweet and delicious. More thoughts of home came to mind, but more importantly, her stomach didn't revolt at the smell.

"This was so thoughtful, T'Pol.  _Thank you_."

"You are welcome."

"Oh, did you want to come in?"

"If it is not an inconvenience."

"I wouldn't have asked if it was," Amanda replied with a friendly smile.

Amanda opened the door wider to allow her inside. T'Pol quickly seemed intrigued by the news on the holo projector, and Amanda strained to listen.

It was the end of a story about the Romulan Star Empire.

Amanda's eyes flicked back to T'Pol, who was now aware Amanda was watching her.

" _Romulans_?" Amanda mused.

T'Pol's eyebrow flicked upward and she tilted her chin down in an unusual nod. Amanda recalled the last time she'd asked T'Pol about the Romulans, the woman had been eager to change the subject. Amanda felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. Sarek's concerns about T'Lona, T'Pau, and T'Pol still worried Amanda, though she couldn't explain why.

It wasn't like her husband to be paranoid, but T'Pol didn't exactly seem dangerous or suspicious. She was  _kind_. She'd helped her plant a garden. She'd brought her tea when she was feeling sick.

She'd also seen and done a lot in her long life. Amanda gave in to her curiosity.

"Did you ever run into them? You know, when you were in Starfleet?" Amanda blurted.

"Several times."

"What was it like? What were  _they_  like, I mean? You see things in the news from time to time, but no one really knows anything about them," Amanda rambled, heading in the direction of the kitchen.

"They are a hostile and unforgiving species with superior technology," T'Pol remarked, following her hostess.

"Sure, but did you ever meet any?"

"No one from the Federation has ever encountered Romulans in person."

"Oh, well,  _right_ ," Amanda stammered. "It was a stupid question, I guess."

There were times she wished her friend weren't so intimidating. She decided to drop the subject, but certainly took note of T'Pol's curious choice of words. Living with Sarek hadn't converted her to logic, but it had definitely exposed her to the Vulcan thought process – particularly the Vulcan love affair with technicality.

" _No one from the Federation_ …" she had said. The Federation didn't exist until 2161, and the Earth-Romulan War ended in 2160. T'Pol hadn't been a Federation citizen during the war.

"Would you like to play another game of rufai-tor?"

" _Hmmm_?" Amanda's mind snapped back to the present. "Oh, sure. Can I get you anything to drink?"

"No." T'Pol sat down at the breakfast table and began dealing the cards. Amanda took a sip of the bar-ka-got and joined her. The tea was a weird blend of sweet, bitter, and minty, but if she could use only one word to describe it, it would be  _magical_. Several more sips completely quelled her stomach, and for the first time in months, she wasn't coexisting with nausea.

"This is  _amazing_ ," Amanda gaped, tilting the canister to examine the liquid.

"You  _enjoy_  it?"

"Well,  _no_ ," she admitted. "I wouldn't call it delicious, but I'm already feeling better."

"It is a popular remedy for nausea and respiratory illnesses," T'Pol dismissed, finishing the arrangement of cards on the table. "Now, are you ready to begin?"

Amanda was getting better, but she still had yet to claim a victory. She hated how competitive this particular game made her, and would have played late into the night if T'Pol didn't excuse herself after an hour to return to her nursery.

Amanda said goodbye and returned to the couch in the sitting room. The tea had worked wonders for her perpetual sickness, but she was still extremely fatigued. She began to doze again when she heard her PADD ding, notifying her of an new message.

She didn't get much correspondence anymore, and though her eyes begged to stay shut, curiosity got the better of her.

_It was from Tolek_.

She sat up, instantly alert. As she began to read, she became so excited she only skimmed the remainder of the request, picking out phrases like "xenolinguistics panel" and "Shi'Kahr Academy." She yelped and read the message twice just to be sure.

He was extending an invitation for her to sit on a panel on interspecies semantic investigations at Shi'Kahr Academy in three weeks. She couldn't help it: she yelped in excitement. Then panic set in.

She would be addressing a group of Vulcans, the most unapproachable people in the quadrant. She couldn't refuse – she'd been struggling to find some kind of opportunity like this since moving to this planet. She typed out a quick reply and buried her face in her hands. Tolek immediately acknowledged her response.  _She would see him in three weeks_.

It wasn't a job but it was something to do and a way to feel like her education mattered again. Though her mind buzzed with exhilaration and anxiety, she couldn't manage to fight through her drowsiness.

She was asleep on the black chaise when she woke to the sensation of something brushing her face. She sat upright in a moment of panic to find Sarek sitting beside her. He pulled his hand back and the expression on his face was…  _unsettling_.  _He almost looked afraid._

"I apologize," he muttered.

"No. I'm glad you're home. How was your day?"

"Satisfactory," he admitted.

"Mine was really good," she said, explaining about T'Pol's visit and Tolek's offer.

They ate a replicated dinner of shur t'bertakk, a bland and mildly salty soup that reminded Amanda of hot gazpacho. Her nausea was creeping back, but she managed to keep it down. Sarek said nothing, and when Amanda was finished, she noticed he'd hardly touched his food.

It wasn't unusual for him to be silent during a meal, but he usually ate like he did everything else –  _efficiently_.

"Are you ok?" she asked, wondering if he would ever grow tired of being asked the same question.

"Yes," he replied curtly. "I forgot to mention it earlier; I shall be leaving for Earth tomorrow afternoon. I shall be gone for three weeks."

"So soon?"

"It was unavoidable due to my schedule for next month."

She exhaled a slow, disappointed breath. "Well, I'll miss you, as always."

Sarek's eyes flicked in her direction and she saw his hand traveling along the table toward hers.  _What had happened to make him so affectionate one moment and so callous the next?_

Their fingers joined in ozh'esta and she felt a powerful surge of joy that bordered almost on mania, more intense than she'd ever experienced from this form of physical contact. She pulled her hand back and Sarek took a series of short breaths.

"What's  _wrong_?" she insisted.

"I am- I am tired, I believe," he murmured.

She sighed and eyed him carefully. "Me too."

They cleaned the kitchen and headed toward the bedroom, and when she crossed the threshold into the master suite, Sarek's hand caught hers again and the thrilling elation returned.

It felt like instinct, but she stood on her toes to kiss him. The moment their lips met, his hands slid around her cheeks and their minds joined.

There was something  _very_  different about her husband. His mind had never been so active, and there was something electrifying about it. Her kisses became more fevered, and then Sarek did something that caught her completely off-guard.

He snatched her from the ground, carried her to the bed, and crawled on top of her in a series of deft and purposeful movements. She pushed against his chest and stared at him, feeling half alarmed and half aroused.

"I- I apologize," he mumbled.

She squinted in the dim light of the room, studying his body language and microexpressions. Sarek was confident in bed, but aside from their first sexual encounter, she couldn't recall him ever being so assertive.  _It excited her_.

She grabbed his shirt and pulled him on top of her, and they soon became lost in their mutual desire.


	10. An Emotional Tour

**November 2228**

He heard the thrusters disengage and rocked forward slightly from the sudden deceleration. The shuttle's inertial dampeners needed to be recalibrated.

Through the shuttle's stadium window he could see the bold characters of the ship's designation scrawled across the belly of the saucer. NCC-1463 –  _The USS Valley Forge_.

Amanda's face was ashen and she appeared to be concentrating on the seat in front of her. He explored the fringes of her mind through their bond, realizing she was trying very hard to avoid becoming sick. He had not considered the effect of spaceflight on her condition, and the shoddy inertial dampeners were jarring the spacecraft more than was necessary.

A spasm of irritation began to grow and he worked to suppress it. An engineer, either through laziness or incompetence, had failed to maintain the shuttle to a proper standard, thus increasing his mate's suffering.

_No. That was irrational._

Amanda was suffering because of an elective medical procedure and he had no logical basis for blaming a nameless engineer for the state of the shuttle. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, reassembling his logic. The slow emergence of pon farr made him feel vulnerable and powerless. He took her forefingers – her hand trembled.

" _Will you be alright_?" he asked through their bond.

" _I don't know_ ," she answered telepathically. " _How much longer_?"

He glanced through the window again, observing the shuttle bay growing larger on their approach.

" _Several more minutes_ ," he answered. " _I regret I cannot be more precise without an understanding of Starfleet docking procedures or the shuttle crew's efficiency_."

A barely audible whimper escaped her lips. He glanced around at his colleagues. If anyone had noticed her moment of weakness, none gave any outward indication. Her fertility treatments continued to leave her in a constant state of sickness, and the medicinal tea recommended by T'Pol seemed to be losing its efficacy.

Sarek struggled with his own troubles. He had less than three months remaining before the plak tow would begin. It was difficult to determine how his condition was progressing because his symptoms were worsening so gradually. He was becoming more agitated and restless, and though he was still capable of maintaining a decorous outward appearance, it was far from easy.

His twenty-three day tour of Earth had been more challenging than he'd anticipated. At times he found himself feeling despondent because Amanda had been unable to join him, and being forced to cope with sadness was vexing. He was familiar with grief – he had grieved the loss of both of his parents upon their passing – but random bouts of sorrow due to a temporary separation from his mate were repulsively illogical.

Yet his return to Vulcan six days ago had demonstrated a curious phenomenon.  _His symptoms became milder in Amanda's presence._

It gave him great relief to engage her in ozh'esta, and eased his mind even more to meld with her. These things also seemed to bring her comfort, though doing them routinely provoked his urge to mate with her.

Despite his intense desire for her, he had no interest in traumatizing her in her current condition. She had continued to deteriorate during his visit to Earth, and now she was simply too sick and weak for him to dare broach the subject of intimate physical contact with her. She had lost so much of her body fat to the nausea that he could now easily inventory her ribs, and she wore permanent dark circles under her eyes. When his arousal became too great, he would pull away from her and spend hours in intensive meditation. He knew his behavior was confusing her.

He wished to discuss his impending pon farr with her, but he struggled with irrational anxiety. Amanda knew what pon farr  _was_ , but she had never experienced it, and her ignorance concerned him. He was afraid of upsetting her, and then grew angry because of his illogical fear, and then his anger would turn into embarrassment because he could not control his anger, and embarrassment would evolve into depression. It was astonishing that humans routinely coped with such things.

Whenever he resolved to speak to her, she was often too sick or fatigued to entertain serious conversation. She spent most mornings in the lavatory vomiting, and he returned home each night to find her asleep in their bed or on the chaise. As the plak tow was still several months away, he decided there was little harm in postponing the discussion until after her treatments had concluded and she began to recover.

Light flooded through the windows of the shuttle as it entered the bay, and less than a minute later, the vessel landed on the platform with a gentle shake. Amanda clapped a discreet hand over her mouth and clenched her eyes shut, taking in deep breaths through her nose.

His colleagues stood and began to disembark, but he waited for Amanda to collect herself. She had taken her prescribed autoinjector earlier that morning to settle her stomach and had insisted she felt well enough to come, but her chalk-white face and unsteady hands suggested her condition had severely declined.

"Are you well enough to stand?" he asked, his voice low and patient.

She nodded, clutching the back of the seat in front of her to rise to her feet. She took a deep breath and offered a feeble smile.

"I think it was just the shuttle ride," she whispered. "I'll be fine."

Amanda so rarely complained, but she also rarely acknowledged her limitations.

"I am certain the vessel has medical facilities, if you-"

"I'll be ok, Sarek," she said, inching forward to allow him out of his seat.

They emerged together through the hatch into the shuttle bay. A detachment of Starfleet officers was waiting to greet them and the rest of the contingent from the Vulcan Science Academy.

"Good evening," the man at the head of the procession exclaimed with a gentle, unfamiliar accent. "Or I suppose I should say good morning, since I believe the sun only came up over Shi'Kahr several hours ago."

 _Was the man really trying to explain how time worked to the engineers and physicists from the Vulcan Science Academy?_  Of course they knew Federation Standard Time was currently 2130 hours and that time of day was relational to the relative position of a planet to its central star.

"I'm Captain Sandeep Dhaliwal," he continued, swallowing heavily and glancing at his guests. "Welcome aboard the  _Valley Forge_. We are honored to have you aboard. Live long and prosper."

His hand formed into an approximation of the ta'al, or the Vulcan salute, and he offered a slight nod. The Vulcan delegation returned the greeting, and Captain Dhaliwal turned to a woman and two men behind him.

"This is my first officer, Commander Agnes Pritchard, my tactical officer, Lieutenant Alexander Marcus, and my chief medical officer, Dr. Marcel Durand."

Sarek considered each in turn. Commander Pritchard bore a striking resemblance to his wife, though she was slightly taller, broader, and had a number of gray hairs at her temples. Lieutenant Marcus had an immaculate haircut and a hawkish gaze that reminded him of his previous secretary. Given the surname, perhaps he was a relation. Dr. Durand was shorter and thinner than Amanda with a shock of white hair and a demure smile.

_Such a curious assortment of humanity._

The captain escorted them out of the shuttle bay and bid the party goodbye, and Commander Pritchard began their tour of the vessel. Several of the Academy's engineers began asking to visit specific areas of the ship or to speak with specialized personnel, and Sarek drifted toward the back of the group with Amanda.

They had been invited to tour the vessel to mark the successful completion of a five-year project between Starfleet Academy and the Vulcan Science Academy. Human and Vulcan warp field physicists and engineers had developed a warp propulsion system with a sustainable cruise velocity of Warp Factor 7.5 and a theoretical maximum velocity of Warp Factor 9.0 – a twenty percent increase over any previous engine in the Federation. The  _Valley Forge_ had been commissioned only last year but was already on the verge of becoming obsolete.

"Are you well, madam?" called a soft voice.

Sarek turned to see Dr. Durand addressing Amanda. She murmured, "I'll be fine. I got a little sick in the shuttle, but walking around is helping."

"Space travel and nausea are old friends," he grinned. "But let me know if I can be of any assistance. My sickbay is always open."

"Certainly," she replied, reaching with her left hand to take Sarek's right fingers.

 _Relief_. The embrace of her fingers was soothing, which was surprising, since he didn't realize he'd felt agitated.

" _Are you certain_?" he asked through their bond. " _Perhaps you should accept the doctor's offer and rest_."

" _I'll make it_ ," she responded. " _Besides, I'm_ burning _to know about the fifth-phase dilithium controlled matter-antimatter reactor_."

Her eyes darted toward the front of their group. Velik, head of the Academy's Engineering Physics Department, was interrogating Commander Pritchard on her knowledge of the ship.

" _I had no notion you were interested in propulsion systems_ ," he replied.

" _I'm not_."

She stifled a chuckle, but her eyes widened and she clasped her hand over her mouth to silence a soft belch. She shuddered once again from the nausea, and Dr. Durand put his hand on her shoulder. Though Sarek understood it was a human act of concern from a doctor to a prospective patient, he felt a passing moment of rage that he would touch Amanda.

 _Irrational_.

Amanda peered at him, cocked her head, and retracted her hand. She knew something was amiss.

"I'm alright," she said, shifting her gaze to the doctor to offer a reassuring smile. "I promise."

She turned her head forward to the ship's first officer, squinting and swallowing steadily. Commander Pritchard continued to speak in broad terms about the structure of the vessel and the marked differences between the  _Valley Forge_  and the previous  _Lancaster_ -Class starships.

" _Are_ you _ok_?" Amanda finally asked, reaching his mind through their bond.

" _I am_."

He longed to take her hand again, but was still working to repress his lingering jealousy and annoyance and didn't wish to alarm her. They stopped outside the main engineering room, and Commander Pritchard began explaining that the new jointly designed engine was incompatible with most Starfleet spacecraft.

"How does Starfleet intend to extend the design life of the planned  _Constitution_ -Class vessels?" someone asked.

"Yes, why are current starships incapable of retrofitting?" asked another.

The interrogation of the ship's first officer began anew, and though Sarek thought Pritchard was well informed, she was poorly prepared for the demanding inquiries of thirteen Vulcan scientists and bureaucrats.

Sarek continued to walk with Amanda. Though she appeared engaged on the surface, he sensed she was bored and exhausted. Commander Pritchard piqued his interest when she began a brief lecture on the upgraded sensor array, and he caught Amanda's eyes flash in his direction.

" _Go_ ," she said telepathically. " _I know you want to. But please be nice to her: she looks really stressed_."

He nodded and stepped forward.

"Are there any questions?" Pritchard asked, her voice cracking in a singsong lilt.

"Tell me, Commander, what advancements has Starfleet made with duotronics?"

"Ah, ambassador, yes- um, there's still some debate as to whether we can ever really get away from circuitry-"

"I do not think there is any  _debate_ ," he interrupted. "I believe your own Dr. Daystrom has made a number of advances."

"I- uh, I'm not actually aware of his research," Pritchard replied.

" _I said be nice_ ," Amanda's voice echoed in his mind.

He experienced a strange compulsion to smile.  _Illogical_.

He locked his hands together behind his back and listened as his colleagues began arguing the possibilities of duotronics and theoretical multitronics. As they proceeded to the deflectors, a part of his mind began to fade and he turned to see Amanda beginning to slump into the arms of Lieutenant Marcus.

"Ma'am?" the lieutenant barked. " _Ma'am_?"

Dr. Durand lurched forward and helped him lower her to the floor while Lieutenant Marcus reached for the communicator on his belt. The entire Vulcan delegation turned to see the cause of the shouting, and Sarek stood frozen, willing himself to remain calm during one of the most emotional experiences of his adult life.

_Pon farr was now the least of his worries._

* * *

Amanda's eyes were closed but she was quickly drifting back into consciousness. Panic swelled in her –  _where was she_?

The  _Valley Forge_. Right?

_Where was she now?_

Lying in a bed.  _Why_?

Her conscious mind began to thaw, and she became aware of two male voices talking nearby.

" _I heard from Crewman Smith who says he overheard Lieutenant Marcus say we're heading to the edge of the Neutral Zone after we leave here_."

" _I don't buy it. It's always scare tactics when it comes to Romulans_."

" _They say there's a lot more activity near the Neutral Zone lately_."

" _Who are 'they_?'"

Her eyes wandered open and she saw a fresh-faced, young man running his finger across a PADD and another, older man watching a monitor over her head.

"Oh, you're awake," the young man said, delivering a reassuring smile. "I'm Ensign Campbell."

"How do you feel, Mrs.-  _erm_ , ma'am?" the other man asked.

_Ma'am. Like she was fifty years old._

She tried to sit up but they both motioned for her to lie back. Her queasiness and cramps were mostly gone, but a rolling headache was beginning to drum at her temples.

"Not as bad as before," she choked.

Her mouth was dry and her voice sounded hollow and foreign. She licked her lips and gasped for breath.

"Do you know where you are?" Campbell asked.

Things began flooding back.  _The tour. The warp drive. The sensor array. Speaking with Lieutenant Marcus. The staring. The fainting._ She felt her face growing hot.

"I'm guessing a medical clinic on the  _Valley Forge_?"

"Welcome to sickbay," the older man said. "Are you in any pain right now?"

"Um,  _what_? No, not really," she croaked. "Where is Sarek? Um, Ambassador Sarek, my husband?"

"Uh, I  _think_  he's outside talking to Dr. Durand," said the ensign. "Do you think you could sit up and let me do a quick exam?"

"Sure."

"Would you like some water," the other man asked.

" _Please_."

Ensign Campbell helped her to a sitting position and began checking her pupils, but he kept eyeing the biobed monitor above her. She guessed her vitals were probably  _terrible_ , but they hadn't been great in recent months. Her blood pressure was low, she was becoming anemic, and she was losing more weight than the Vulcan physicians had anticipated. She only had four treatments left to go, but they were talking of halting the procedure prematurely out of concern to her health.

A distant humming sound faded and Dr. Durand appeared from behind a dividing wall.

"Mrs. Sarek," he said. "Glad to see you are awake."

 _Mrs. Sarek?_  She almost wanted to laugh, but settled for a mildly disapproving look and said, "Please, call me Amanda."

"Ok, Amanda," the doctor said, glancing at Ensign Campbell.

Apparently the look was a sign to go away, but the other nurse chose that moment to return with the glass of water she'd asked for. A rush of gratitude spread over her as she took the small cup and lapped the contents in two big gulps, surprised to find her stomach didn't immediately reject it.

Soon she was alone with the doctor, who took a seat on the end of the biobed.

"Your husband tells me you've been undergoing recombinant fertility treatments for the past five months."

"Uh," she blushed. " _Yes_."

_Strange that it should feel like a source of embarrassment when talking about it with a doctor._

"Where is he? My husband?"

"He's outside. I needed to speak with you privately first."

"He's my  _husband_ ," she argued. "Why can't he come in?"

"He  _can_ , if you'd like, but because of privacy reasons I wasn't able to discuss your condition with him until you gave consent."

"My condition?"

"Yes," he replied. "I'm not sure how to say this, but you're pregnant."

Her jaw dropped and her heart quickened in her chest. She and Sarek hadn't – actually, they  _had_ , right before he left on his visit to Earth.

"I don't- how is that  _possible_? I'm on a course of treatment that's supposed to last six months- I'm  _thrilled_ , obviously, but-"

"Amanda, it's not that simple."

His tone was somber and his face was rigid, and her heart, which moments ago had been soaring, was now beginning to sink.

"What's wrong?"

"Scans of the embryo show significant chromosomal abnormalities," he said.

"How significant?" she whispered.

"You're in the earliest stages of a miscarriage," he explained.

"But- but can't you do something? Isn't- I don't-"

Her chest tightened and her world numbed.

"No," Dr. Durand replied. "The abnormalities are so extensive I'm afraid they're incompatible with life, even with the best gene therapy we have. I'm so sorry."

She heard his words, but the only one she could process was " _no_." She had a baby, and then she  _didn't_ , all in one conversation. Her breathing turned into panting. A low whistle escaped from the back of her throat, something sad and involuntary.

"It's- I- it's-"

The first tears began to fall and she fought to breathe. Dr. Durand reached for his hypospray but she pushed his hand away, clutching her knees to her chest to sob instead. She hadn't cried like this since her father died.

She felt a soft touch on her right hand and pulled away. The sensation followed her hand, and she managed to pry her eyes open to see Sarek. The muscles of his face were smooth, but his eyes were wider than she'd ever seen them. She was vaguely aware that he was speaking to the doctor, but the numbness began to overpower her.

She leaned forward to bury her face into her husband's chest, and much to her surprise, she wrapped his arms around her.  _His empathy made her cry harder._

She didn't remember much about the next twenty-four hours. Captain Dhaliwal was gracious enough to dispatch a shuttle to return them to Vulcan early, and Dr. Durand gave her a week's supply of pain relievers and sedatives. The sedatives seemed redundant – she already felt exhausted and numb.

When they arrived back at their estate, she trudged through the door of the rear entry, and headed straight for bed, dispassionately kicking off her shoes as she walked. Sarek followed her like a silent sentry – he hadn't said a word since she shrieked at him on the drive home to shut his mouth when he tried encouraging her to approach the situation logically.

She knew she was being irrational and she couldn't explain why. She didn't tend toward being a very emotional person, but this was hitting her harder than she would have imagined. This had been one of her worst fears, undergoing treatment and creating a sick child.

She knew how irrational  _that_  was too. The embryo wasn't at a stage where it could feel pain, and it didn't have much in the way of recognizable features or a heartbeat.  _But it could have._

She knew that people had miscarriages all the time, but this one was  _hers_. Dr. Durand had explained that so many pregnancies ended before the woman even knew she was pregnant, and had she not fainted and ended up in his care, she may have never even known. Somehow,  _knowing_  changed things, especially after all she'd been through to try and have a child.

She felt grateful to be in the company of humans when she found out, given her Vulcan healer had the bedside manner of a particularly aloof housecat. She felt angry too. The healer had explained that conception would be difficult even after the full course of treatment had been completed. She had asked about the possibility of something like this and had been assured it wasn't possible at all.

_Leave it to her to be a freak of medicine._

She fell into a deep sleep when she reached the bedroom and didn't awake until dawn. Sarek was nowhere in sight, but I-Chaya was curled at the foot of the bed, resting his chin on her feet. She stroked the silky fur of his ears and felt herself growing teary eyed. She felt a  _little_  better, physically and emotionally, but knew she had a long way to go.

"Amanda?"

Sarek stood in the doorway of their room. Burning shame crept through her – though unintentional, she had caused a scene yesterday in front of his colleagues, his  _Vulcan_  colleagues. Only her husband and a small handful of the  _Valley Forge_ 's medical staff had witnessed her emotional breakdown, but even fainting was embarrassing.

"I have prepared breakfast," he said.

Her stomach flip-flopped and she nodded, throwing her legs over the side of the bed to stand. Cramps surged low in her belly and she choked back sadness. Maybe she wasn't doing as well as she thought.

Her pink dress from the day before was now a wrinkled mess, so she took the time to change into more comfortable clothing while Sarek looked on. The way he was watching her now was unnerving, like a whipped puppy with a serious face. Irritation bubbled to the surface, and she pictured him telling her she was "illogical" for being annoyed at being observed. He had been so  _weird_  lately.

One moment he looked like the Vulcan equivalent of a smitten teenager and the next he was cold and indifferent, even for a Vulcan. Yesterday on the starship she had actually sensed  _anger_  in him, but couldn't place the source of it. Her husband was good at sensing her feelings through their marriage bond, but she could count on one hand the number of times she'd actually sensed  _Sarek's_  emotions. He  _had_  emotions, he just kept them so repressed she was never aware of them.

She finished dressing and followed him to the kitchen to discover he'd made her plomeek soup and bar-ka-got tea. Her eyes became misty, and she hated herself for teetering on the edge of tears over a simple breakfast.

She was upset, and he was trying to make her feel better in one of the only ways he could contrive. Guilt and gratitude mingled with her annoyance as they sat down to eat.

She took her first sips of the broth, waiting anxiously for it to settle in her stomach before continuing to eat. She stared at her bowl, and mumbled, "I'm so sorry for yesterday."

"You have nothing for which to apologize."

"I- I meant for creating a scene," she clarified.

"I do not believe it was in your power to prevent losing consciousness."

"I wasn't feeling well and I shouldn't have even gone," she argued.

He did not reply, but chose to gaze into his bowl of plomeek soup.

"Shouldn't you be leaving for the Academy right about now?" she asked, noting the sun beginning to peek through the wide windows of the kitchen.

"I have some affairs to settle this morning and am not expected at the Academy until later this afternoon," he replied.

_"Settling affairs" was code for "traveling off world soon."_

"Where are you going?"

"Coridan."

"When?"

"This evening."

" _What_? Why are you only telling me  _now_?"

"My presence was only requested late last night after you were asleep."

" _Requested_? So you could refuse to go?"

 _Of course not – Vulcan pleasantries always made marching orders sound like invitations_. If  _that_  wasn't illogical, she didn't know what was.

"No," he replied.

She inhaled sharply, beating back the queasiness. "When will you be back?"

"I estimate a week."

" _Estimate_?"

"Conflicts have once again escalated between the Coridans and Orions over trade routes."

"Didn't you settle that?"

"Tensions have existed between those planets for more than a century," he explained. "Brokering a long-lasting peace takes time."

" _Soup shouldn't be this interesting_ ," she thought dryly to herself, staring at the beige liquid before her.

 _Why did he have to leave_ now _?_

Truthfully, she wasn't sure she wanted him to stay either. She didn't know what she wanted. It was evident he was trying to spare her the emotional trauma of talking about yesterday and losing their baby, but a Vulcan attempting to tiptoe around feelings was analogous to an rhinoceros trying to pirouette around a pottery store.

Her chin quivered and she took another low breath.  _Whether she liked it or not, the tears were coming back._

She rose to her feet, locked her knees, and then walked away without another word. By the time she made it to their bedroom, the first tears began to cascade down her cheeks, but she managed to contain the sobbing until she reached the bathroom.

She shut the door behind her, leaned against it, and slid into a sitting position. Moments later she heard I-Chaya scratching at the door, and it only spurred more unbridled tears. She fell asleep that way, and when she woke, he was gone.

She regretted not saying goodbye, which only made her cry again.

She slept away most of the next twenty-four hours, rising only to eat, care for Euclid and I-Chaya, and take pain medication. The following afternoon, she decided to utilize the old method of faking feeling better until she actually did.

She showered, shaved her legs, tweezed her eyebrows, and put on slacks and a nice shirt. By then it was early evening, and the whole exercise began to feel silly. She was all dressed up and had nowhere to go.

She considered visitingT'Pol, but she was still more emotional than she wanted to admit, and didn't want to have a breakdown in front of her. Thinking of T'Pol reminded her of her garden, and when she stepped outside to tend it, her heart dropped. Of the thirteen rosebush seedlings, only four remained alive.  _Barely alive._

She filled the watering can and did her best to resuscitate them, and began to feel a little weepy again.  _She couldn't keep anything alive._

" _No_ ,  _you're being stupid_ ," she said aloud, uttering the declaration so vehemently she thought she sounded a bit ridiculous.

_What was happening to her?_

She had never been so irrational, sad, agitated, or restless in her entire life. The miscarriage was still raw, but Amanda had endured so much in her young life that being  _this_  emotional seemed…  _bizarre_.

Dr. Durand had explained the pregnancy hormones would continue to linger in her system for several days and the fertility treatments had her body pretty out of whack as well. Maybe  _that_  was it.

She continued to weed, prune, and water her plants. She worked herself into an easy sweat and began to feel dizzy. The Vulcan summer had come early, or so T'Pol claimed, and even though it was early evening, the heat was still monstrous. She decided to go inside and drink water, but as she shut the door to the atrium, the door buzzed.

She held her breath and watched the front entry. It was probably T'Pol, but she didn't think she was ready for visitors. The door buzzed again.

She sighed, brushed some of the sandy soil from her pants, and opened the door to a woman she'd never seen before.

"Hello?"

"You are Amanda Grayson, I presume?" the woman asked in clipped Federation Standard.

"Yes. May I ask what this is about?"

She froze when she saw a small head poke out from behind the woman's legs. A child, barely a toddler, peered up at her in the fading evening light.

"Is Ambassador Sarek home?"

"No," she replied, unable to take her eyes off him.

_A little boy. A mirror image of his mother._


	11. Water Under the Bridge

**November 2228**

"Do you know when he is due to return?"

Amanda's voice hesitated at the back of her throat as she watched the small child disappear behind the woman's legs again. The woman reached for his hand and pulled him alongside her, causing a flicker of anger in Amanda. The boy was terrified and this Vulcan woman wasn't helping his situation.

"Well?

"No," Amanda explained. "He estimated he would be back in a week."

"I see."

"So were you going to tell me what this was about?"

"It is a delicate family matter."

"Whose family?"

"The S'chn T'gai family."

"You are aware I am Ambassador Sarek's wife?"

"Yes, I had been informed he had taken a new mate."

So she might be married to Sarek, but apparently that didn't qualify her as a proper member of his family. It took every scrap of limited patience available not to fly off the handle, but she managed to take a deep breath and say, "This must be Sybok."

"Yes."

"And you already know that I'm Amanda Grayson, wife of Ambassador Sarek, but I never did get your name."

"I am Sreil."

"And what brings you to my home at this unusual hour, Sreil?"

"I am a caseworker with the Social Welfare Ministry. The child's mother has taken ill."

"Ill?"

"I am not at liberty to discuss her situation with you."

"And Sybok's situation?"

"Law requires me to place him in the temporary care of his father."

"Well, his father isn't  _home_."

"No," Sreil agreed.

Amanda could feel her patience slipping. She was already sick and tired, literally, and now  _this_. How could a woman from the most logical species in the quadrant prefer to go through this ridiculous interrogation instead of just putting it all out on the table? She stood in the doorway with her arms crossed and waited for the woman to explain further. After a brief but painful game of staring, Amanda won.

"As you are the child's stepmother, I could place Sybok in your care, if you are willing and deemed capable."

She felt a strange pull in her belly and an acute terror that tears would spring out of nowhere. Crying right now would be about the worst thing that could happen.

"He is more than welcome to stay here as long as he needs to," she replied.

She glanced at Sybok again, watching his heavy-lidded, black eyes dart around the interior of the house. When they came to rest on Amanda, he quickly looked away.  _Poor thing_.

Sreil's posture remained stiff, giving Amanda the distinct impression she hadn't been expecting her to allow Sybok to stay and she didn't like the idea of leaving an impressionable, Vulcan toddler in the care of a human woman. Amanda struggled to take the higher road.

"Would you like to come inside?"

Sreil bobbed her head and stepped over the threshold, pulling Sybok along with her. He had a small, black bag on his back and a terrified look on his face. Amanda tried giving him the most reassuring look she could manage without making Sreil think she was too emotional to properly look after him.

"Are you prepared to accommodate him? Provide him with sleeping quarters, nutritious food, and  _clean_  clothing?"

Her exacting eyes rested on the dirt on Amanda's pants.

"I was in the middle of tending my garden when you arrived unexpectedly," she explained, taking care to keep her voice level and smooth.

"I see."

"Would you mind if I examined the property for its suitability?"

"Not at all."

The next hour became a humiliating tour of Amanda's home in which every shortcoming was scrutinized, from a stray pet hair on furniture to a thin layer of dust on an environmental vent. Sreil disliked the notion of indoor pets but acknowledged that many Vulcan families kept sehlats. She was far more interested in Euclid, having never encountered a Terran cat.

After much polite arguing and deliberation and a brief examination of Amanda's skills with Vuhlkansu, Sreil consented to allow Sybok to stay. Sybok seemed conflicted, because he didn't seem to like the fierce Vulcan woman, but he also didn't look eager to remain with a strange-looking alien either.

When Sreil was occupied notifying her superiors in Gol of the situation, Amanda dropped down on one knee. The nausea rolled over her like a wave, but she pushed it back.

"Tonk'peh, Sybok," she said in Vuhlkansu. "Kup Amanda."

"Tonk'peh," he murmured, finally making eye contact with her.

A simple greeting in a language he understood worked wonders. Apparently people weren't so different after all, even after accounting for differences in species and age.

She knew most Vulcan children didn't learn Federation Standard English until they attended primary school, and it must have been very confusing for him to be carted all over a strange house while two women prattled on in a strange language.

"I shall come collect him when his mother is well enough," Sreil said, shutting down her PADD.

"Do you know when that will be?" Amanda asked, rising to her feet.

"I do not."

"Well then," Amanda said, venturing toward the front door. "I have your contact information if anything happens."

"I would encourage you to refrain from any excessive, emotional outbursts in his presence," Sreil remarked as she breezed through the door. "These are very critical years for his development."

In a display of grace she didn't imagine possible in her current physical state, Amanda nodded, raised her hand in the ta'al, and replied, "Veling, dif-tor heh smusma."

Sreil's lips pursed gently, but she also nodded, returned the ta'al, and said, "Sochya eh dif."

And that was that.

She heard a soft squeal from behind that turned into giggles. I-Chaya was licking Sybok's face, and Sybok was clearly delighted by the concept of having another creature at his eye level. Despite her recent promise to abstain from "emotional outbursts," she joined Sybok in laughing.

The scene suddenly produced two powerful, opposing emotions. It was hard not to experience joy at the sight of her sehlat licking the face of a giggling toddler, but it was also hard to ignore the incredible sadness and emptiness she felt. Rather than cancel one another out, the two contradictory feelings worked in tandem to overwhelm her. It took everything she had to choke the tears down.

"Are you hungry, Sybok?" she asked in Vuhlkansu.

"Ah," he replied.  _Yes_.

She ushered him into the kitchen and began to browse the pantry and refrigeration unit. She poured herself a tall glass of water and drank it in several long gulps, which made her stomach bubble a bit. Still, the water was refreshing after spending so much time outside in her current condition.

She put herself to work slicing fruit and cooking a bowl of heavy brown noodles. She tried asking Sybok about himself – the things he liked, where he lived, if he had any pets – but he spoke little, answering her questions with the fewest words possible. He didn't seem shy or timid; she suspected he was probably confused and missing his mother.

She wondered if Sreil had explained what happened to his T'Rea. Sarek had made it clear that Vulcans didn't see the logic in shielding children from the truth, but Vulcans also didn't seem to have much regard for very young children either. In this culture, discipline was instilled immediately, children did as they were told, and they were not entitled to explanations.

As she sat down to dinner with her small guest, she couldn't help but stare at him. She'd secured a small box from the garage for him to sit on and comfortably reach the table, and though his hands were tiny, they were proficient enough to use adult utensils with ease.

Sybok was only about two and a half years old, but on the outside, he looked like a miniature Vulcan adult, haircut and all. Sreil had explained he was toilet trained and mostly capable of dressing and feeding himself, but he still required moderate assistance with bathing and hygiene. It still impressed her that a toddler could be so independent. Vulcans expected a lot from their children, and Sybok was the product of those expectations.

While they sat in silence, she finally allowed herself to think about what Sarek would have to say about all of this. Truthfully, she didn't know.

She knew the Vulcan sales pitch – hatred was illogical. But she also knew her husband, and though he would never admit it, she knew just how deeply the resentment for his former mate ran. Amanda had her own bitterness toward T'Rea, but she couldn't bring herself to extend her negative feelings to the little boy sitting next to her, hungrily crunching on gespar.

Sybok wasn't Sarek's biological son. Amanda had only met her husband's previous wife on one occasion, but she was a hard person to forget – T'Rea was beautiful in the most intimidating way imaginable. Sybok looked quite a bit like his mother with his thin features and sharp eyes, but he looked nothing at all like Sarek. Both Sarek and T'Rea had rich, olive-colored skin, but Sybok was fair-skinned enough to look like he was more closely related to Amanda than Sarek.

Still, as far as the law was concerned, Sybok was Sarek's legal son, thanks to a system that seemed horribly archaic and backwards to Amanda.

Like many Vulcan children, Sarek and T'Rea had been bonded at age seven and married much later. T'Rea had an affair and became pregnant, and Sarek chose to divorce her, since Vulcan law prohibited annulling a marriage that had produced children, regardless of the paternity of the child.

Sarek's act had been considered somewhat shocking to "polite" Vulcan society and T'Rea's politically powerful family, and that was how he'd been reappointed ambassador to Earth. The ambassadorship to the Federation's central planet was generally considered an important honor, but based on Sarek's previous experience, it was something of a demotion. Of course, if none of this had ever happened, she and Sarek would never have met, so she tried see both sides of it.

If that had been the end of the story, she would have no reason to dislike T'Rea: Sarek had divorced her before she ever knew him. Unfortunately, T'Rea had shown up the night before they were supposed to get married to ask Sarek to remarry her as a means of legally adopting her son.

It had taken Amanda a long time to wrap her mind around just how ridiculous and antiquated Vulcan society was on issues of marriage and children, but under Vulcan law, when Sarek had divorced T'Rea while she was pregnant, he left her child without a legal father, but he had done so presuming T'Rea would choose to marry the child's biological father.

Unfortunately, her lover had rejected her and her family had disowned her, which put Sybok in a precarious position. As an illegitimate child, Sybok wouldn't have lost any formal rights or endure legal penalties for his parents' choices, but the law wasn't always synonymous with culture. T'Rea's family had agreed to acknowledge her once again if she could patch up the messy affair, but the only way to do that was to remarry her former husband.

Sarek had still refused, until T'Rea reminded him of just how well connected her family was, and Amanda, not wanting to see him throw away his career, had called off their wedding. The whole thing had been a disaster, but in the end, Amanda and Sarek had split up for a time and Sarek remarried T'Rea, only to have the marriage immediately annulled, thus becoming Sybok's legal father. T'Rea moved to a monastery with her newborn son and was thus no longer a public disgrace to her family, but it had taken nearly a year for Sarek and Amanda to put their relationship back together.

From a broad perspective, Sybok's existence was the source of a lot of misery and heartache, but Amanda just couldn't see him that way. He hadn't asked to be born, and he especially hadn't asked to be born into a society that claimed to promote social freedom but still held so many impractical prejudices.

It did make Amanda wonder why the woman from social services hadn't tried to place him with a more "appropriate" Vulcan caretaker, such as his grandparents or any aunts or uncles he might have. Maybe they still didn't want him, despite everything that had happened, and that theory cut deeply into her heart.

"More?" Sybok asked, sitting up straight.

"Of course," Amanda replied, pushing some fruit from her own bowl into his.

"Thank you," he murmured.

She felt full to bursting with a wide array of emotions. He was such a sweet, polite little boy, and he made her realize just how much she wanted one of her own.

After dinner she showed him how to use the sonic shower and waited patiently outside the door, sorting through the small black bag he'd brought with him and noting he only had one set of gray pajamas. She helped him dress, and when they were done, she showed him to the guest bedroom.

He had to vault to make it onto the tall bed, but he seemed so persistent in his independence that helping him would seem wrong somehow. She wanted to tuck him in and tell him everything would be ok, but she sensed that would be more for her benefit than his.

"Do you need anything else, Sybok?"

He pulled the covers over his chest and looked at her, and for the first time, she saw a sad haze in his expression. His quiet, high-pitched voice asked, "Where is mother?"

Amanda wished she knew. "Your mother is sick and had to go away for a little while."

"Sick?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"In a hospital."

"Hospital?"

"A hospital is a place where sick people go to get better."

It was the longest conversation they'd had since he'd arrived and Amanda was eager to keep it going, but Sybok seemed to be thinking hard. She wasn't an expert on Vulcan child development and had no idea how much Sybok could really understand about the situation.

"Can see her?"

"You want to see your mother?"

"Yes."

"I'm not sure where she is."

"Hospital."

"There are many hospitals," she explained softly.

She wondered if it would be possible to take him to visit T'Rea, but she didn't want to put the idea in his head if she couldn't make it happen. She wondered if T'Rea even knew where her Sybok was, but Sreil had refused to tell her anything. Amanda didn't even know what had happened – the woman could be in a coma for all she knew.

"Want see her."

"I know, Sybok. You  _will_ , soon."

"Soon?"

She puzzled a moment over how to explain an abstract, fluid concept like "soon" to a toddler. She took a few steps forward and sat on the edge of the bed.

"I don't know when you'll get to see your mother again, but you will. You're going to stay with me for now. Is that good?"

Sybok scanned her face but didn't say anything.

"I will see you in the morning, Sybok."

She shut out the lights as she left the room and slumped against the wall of the hallway. The weight of the past hours finally crashed down, forcing her to slide to the floor in numb silence. She heard a muffled sound through the wall and it only took her a few moments to realize it was the sound of Sybok crying.

His distress caused something to break inside her. Tears started streaming down her face, and the harder she tried to contain them, the harder they fell.

" _Screw logic and setting a good, Vulcan example_ ," she whispered to herself.

She took a few deep breaths and went back into the guest bedroom. She could see him in the light from the hallway, curled up and facing the opposite wall.

"Sybok?"

He didn't acknowledge her, so she sat beside him and rubbed his back. His sobs continued as he rolled over and instinctively stretched out his arms, searching for any kind of comfort in the dimly lit room. She pulled him into a tight embrace and they cried together that way – a child who missed his mother, and a mother who missed her child – until Sybok fell asleep an hour later.

That night was the beginning of a steep learning curve for Amanda. Though Sybok tended to behave like he was two and a half going on fifty, he was still sometimes given to tantrums and irrational demands. The next morning at breakfast, he'd refused to eat the plomeek broth she served him and eventually hurled his spoon on the floor.

Secretly, this made her like him just that much more, because it proved that Vulcans weren't born swaddled with thick layers of logic. Underneath his age-defying intelligence, manners, and independence was still a young child who got fussy when he missed his nap or screamed at the top of his lungs when he was done dealing with life for the day.

It showed Amanda that he was growing comfortable enough with her to reveal his true personality, and as it turned out, Sybok was a regular toddler – sometimes funny, sometimes sweet, sometimes bratty, but always himself. It was nice having someone in the house to talk to who could actually participate in the conversation, even if his speech was rudimentary and occasionally muddled.

He was always underfoot, helping her in the garden or watching her prepare meals. It was weird to admit she could love a little boy she had only known for a short time, and after just three days, she was dreading the idea of having to give him back.

She'd worked tirelessly to locate T'Rea and see if it would be possible to arrange a visit for Sybok to see her, though Vulcan's strict privacy laws made it rather difficult. She might have asked Sarek for help, but she hadn't been able to reach him, a fact that made her half annoyed, half glad.

After four days of trying, she finally learned from an experienced clerk at the Social Welfare Ministry that T'Rea was in a hospital in Gol. It took several more communication attempts with the hospital and figuring out how to phrase her request, but was finally informed that T'Rea was allowing visitors.

She packed Sybok up early the next morning, took a cab to the nearest port, and together they flew more than four thousand kilometers to Gol on a passenger transport. She got curious looks the whole trip, and though it was irritating, she understood. She'd probably have the same reaction if she saw an adult Vulcan traveling with a human toddler on Earth.

When they reached the hospital, she started to doubt her plan. What if T'Rea was too sick to meet with them, or worse, what if she was angry Amanda had been tasked to watch her son?

She took a deep breath and escorted Sybok into the lobby. While she waited in line, her PADD began to chirp, and when she pulled it from her bag, she grimaced.

Now _her husband decided to return her calls._

Her finger wavered over the "accept" button, but she decided to get it over with and clicked on the audio signal.

"Hello Sarek."

"Amanda," he replied. "Where are you?"

She looked around the crowded lobby. The Vulcans weren't a very rowdy bunch, but there was still polite conversation in the background that he could probably hear.

"The hospital," she replied, hoping he wouldn't ask too many more questions.

She went to the hospital every week for her fertility treatments and had just had a miscarriage, so surely he wouldn't think it was that strange. She wasn't eager for Sarek to know she was going to see his ex-wife. She would tell him eventually, but for  _now_ , she preferred to keep the peace.

"Are you well?"

"Yes," she replied, glad for an easy question that wouldn't require her to lie.

"I received a call from the Social Welfare Ministry four days ago regarding my former mate and her child," he began.

She bit her bottom lip and winced. " _Oh_?"

"They wished to place the child in my temporary custody."

" _Hmmmmm_?"

"Have they contacted you?"

"Yes."

"Has the matter been resolved?"

She glanced down at Sybok and replied, " _Yes_."

"What did-"

"Listen, I have to go: it's my turn at the desk. Can I contact you later tonight?"

"I regret to say I shall be occupied this evening."

"Oh, that's a shame. Anyway, good luck and I'll see you when you get home."

She clicked the PADD off and shoved it back in her bag. She cringed at the thought of keeping this from her husband, but she had enough on her mind at the moment.

Twenty minutes later they were escorted through a maze of hallways and turbolifts before arriving at a door at the end of a corridor on the sixth floor. The orderly entered the room to announce their arrival and Amanda started to wonder what it felt like to have a heart attack.

All the excitement of seeing Sybok happy collided with her own jealousy, anger, and anxiety, and when the orderly emerged and waved them inside, she let Sybok go first.

" _Ko-mekh_?"

"Sybok," replied a feeble voice.

She heard the slapping of tiny shoes on the hard floor as he ran toward his mother. Amanda thanked the orderly and slipped into the room, only to be shocked by what she saw.

She was resting in an inclined biobed and Sybok was sitting next to her. T'Rea had once been an imposing woman with piercing eyes and an elegant, angular face, but now she was a figure carved from dry skin stretched over bone. Amanda realized she probably didn't look so great either after the months of fertility treatments, but still, she was sorry to see T'Rea had wasted away.

"Miss Grayson," T'Rea murmured.

"T'Rea," she replied.

"Thank you for bringing my son."

"Oh, well, he was asking for you and the social worker wouldn't tell me anything – not that it was my business to know – but Sybok was… well, I'm sure he's glad to see you."

"Amanda," Sybok said, pointing to her but looking at his mother.

"He seems to have been well cared for, and I am appreciative for that also."

"Yes, well, I can give you two some time alone, if you'd like."

"I would like to speak with you first, if I may."

"Sure," Amanda said, crossing her arms and shifting her weight onto her other foot.

"Perhaps you would like to sit," she said, gesturing to the chair in the corner.

She took a seat, noticing the popping of her knees and the odd pattern of the tile on the floor.

"I wish to apologize for interfering with your marriage to my former mate."

She was stunned. Of all the things she expected to come out of the woman's mouth, an apology was toward the bottom.

"I- it- well, it's water under the bridge."

"An odd expression."

"It's in the past and it would be pointless to dwell on it now," Amanda explained.

"Ah, I see."

"It's been wonderful having Sybok," Amanda said, shifting the subject. "He's such a bright little boy."

"He is my child," T'Rea said simply. "He is like an extension of myself, and as such, he is very dear to me. There is very little I would not do for him."

Amanda swallowed and nodded.

"I wish to explain that my interference in your marriage was only done out for my concern for my son. I had no intention-"

"I understand," Amanda interrupted, hating the moisture that began pricking the corners of her eyes. "I  _do_. You don't need to explain."

She recalled thinking it would have been the worst thing imaginable to cry in front of Sreil, but she had been wrong. It would have been much worse to cry in front of Sarek's ex-wife.

T'Rea canted her head into a gentle nod. "I am grateful and a little surprised you and Ambassador Sarek have agreed to care for him while I am incapacitated."

"I'll be perfectly honest; Sarek is away on Coridan and doesn't know."

"I see," T'Rea mused. "I have a delicate matter I wish to discuss with you."

"Oh?"

"I am sure you know the details of what transpired between the ambassador and myself."

"Yes."

"Sarek agreed to acknowledge Sybok as his son, but I assured him he would never have to raise or provide for him. I fear I may be on the verge of violating that agreement."

Amanda felt her pulse quicken and the push of a gentle headache beginning to form.

"I have been ill for several months, and the healers have diagnosed my condition as terminal."

"I'm very sorry," Amanda said, meaning every word. "I really am."

"It would be illogical to apologize for a disease which you did not cause," T'Rea argued.

"True, but Vulcan or not, that can't have been easy news to receive."

"My only concern is for my son and what will happen to him upon my death. Legally, Sarek is his father and custody would fall to him, and you, by extension."

She balled her sweaty palms into fists and dared herself to look at the woman. Sybok had fallen asleep propped up next to her, and the sight of his twitching, dreaming face made her smile momentarily.

"I fear that Sarek will refuse, and if he does, I am certain no one in my family will want to assume responsibility for Sybok."

" _Why_?" Amanda blurted.

Her cheeks grew hot and she immediately regretted asking such a personal question, but T'Rea seemed beyond social offense.

"My actions reflected poorly upon my family."

"But Sybok is just a child," she seethed. "He's their own flesh and blood."

T'Rea shot her a look of careful consideration. "Do you believe Ambassador Sarek would be willing to accept him?"

"I don't care if he's willing," Amanda explained, probably more passionately than she intended. " _I'm_  willing. No matter what, Sybok will always have a place in our home if he needs it."

T'Rea's face seemed far away for several seconds, and she looked down at her son curled up next to her. "I am immeasurably grateful to you."

"Would it be inappropriate to ask how much time you think you have left?"

"The healers estimate this new course of treatment may prolong my life another five years, though there has been a significant margin of error in the most recent clinical studies."

Amanda was fascinated by the cold, neutral way she was able to discuss her impending death.

"I have another question," Amanda announced. "If Sarek and I had refused, what would have happened to Sybok? I'm not very familiar with Vulcan social services."

"I imagine he would be placed with a suitable family."

"A  _Vulcan_  family."

"Yes."

"Doesn't it bother you that I'm human?"

"I suppose it is a little unorthodox, but Sarek is Sybok's legal father and would be able to provide numerous opportunities for him," she began. "But more importantly, you have proven yourself to be nothing like any human I have ever encountered."

"Is that a compliment?"

"Yes, because you are also unlike any Vulcan I have ever encountered. In any case, I did not expect you to care for Sybok as if he were your own son, but you have demonstrated that you do. Many humans might have chosen to be spiteful, and most Vulcans would have bowed to social custom. I require someone to raise my son when I am gone, and I can think of no one better than you."

Silent tears finally splashed down her cheeks and she bit her lip in annoyance. She waved at her face and mumbled, "Clearly I'm an emotional person. Are you really sure you want me raising your Vulcan son?"

T'Rea looked out the window, but Amanda got the sense she was looking far beyond what the eye could see, as if examining the whole of her existence.

"Yes," she replied. "I am certain."


	12. Breaking Point

**February 2229**

"Black one, blue twelve, red three, and yellow one," T'Pol said, peering at her opponent over the cards in her hand.

Amanda gritted her teeth and threw her cards down on the table in disgust.

She had no idea how many games of rufai-tor she'd lost over the months, but knowing how the Vulcan mind worked, T'Pol could probably tell her an  _exact_  figure, with along with other minutiae such as dates, times, and which cards Amanda had been holding. She wondered why T'Pol even bothered playing her anymore.

T'Pol began to shuffle her cards back into the deck when Amanda stopped her.

"I know you've already won, but will you at least let me take a guess at your cards?"

"No," T'Pol replied, picking the deck up and beginning to work the cards through her nimble fingers in a neat shuffling motion.

"What do you mean  _no_?" Amanda huffed.

"I cannot stop you from venturing a guess, but I am not obliged to confirm it as correct."

"But what if it isn't a guess?"

"If you knew the cards in my hand, why did you not end the game?"

"Because…  _I don't know_. There are times when I come so close to thinking I know what you have but I start second-guessing myself."

"Why?"

"Because you're intimidating," Amanda groaned.

"It has never been my intention to intimidate you."

"Blue seven, blue nine, yellow two, and yellow nine," Amanda said, forcing herself to make eye contact.

The faintest hint of a smile threatened to escape from the corners of T'Pol's mouth, but she turned the attention back to the cards by offering the deck to Amanda.

"Do you wish to continue? Perhaps you would like to switch to kal-toh?"

"Was I right?" Amanda insisted.

"The moment has already passed," T'Pol explained. "The correct decision made too late is no better than the wrong decision hastily made."

Amanda wiped the beads of sweat forming on her forehead with the sleeve of her shirt; even though it was late evening in early winter, it was still stifling hot in T'Pol's nursery. Though her stomach growled, she didn't feel hungry.

She took the cards and noted a slight tremor in her hands and she shuffled. She'd been so anxious and agitated lately. At first she'd tried to dismiss it as the culmination of a year of boredom, cabin fever, and depression, but she was at the point where even the sound of Euclid crunching on his cat food set her on edge. And then there were the  _other_  thoughts, the more intimate thoughts of her husband that flickered through her mind whenever she began to calm down.

Her husband's one-week trip to Coridan was now in its eleventh week and he'd given no indication he was coming home any time soon. She'd disliked having to break the news to him about Sybok and T'Rea while he was so far away, because she couldn't see his face or sense his thoughts through an audio transmission. He'd handled it well enough, admitting that as Sybok's legal father he had a duty to provide for him in the event of T'Rea's death and if Amanda was willing to care for him, then he was willing to accept him.

Amanda knew there was so much more that he wasn't saying and probably would never say, and that frustrated and annoyed her too. Why couldn't he just speak his mind, even if what was going through his mind was illogical resentment over his ex-wife's past transgressions?

She'd returned Sybok to his mother four weeks ago once T'Rea had been released from the hospital, and she hadn't stopped missing him since. She managed to hold her tears until she got home, but had spent the night crying into I-Chaya's soft shoulder while his scratchy tongue lapped the tears from her cheeks.

Now that Sybok was gone, she felt more adrift than ever and her longing for a child grew exponentially. She'd finished the fertility treatments at the encouragement of the geneticist, who continued to assure her that her previous miscarriage was an unforeseen anomaly. She still found it hard to be optimistic, given she only about a third as likely to conceive a child with Sarek than if she had married a human, and Sarek was never home.

"Perhaps you have shuffled enough," T'Pol said, looking at the cards whirring down from Amanda's thumbs.

Amanda realized her knuckles were beginning to ache from the repetitive motion.

"Yes, you're probably right." She dealt the cards, turned two from the remaining stack over, and started their seventeenth hand of rufai-tor.

After nine rounds, something clicked.

"Black seven, black eight, blue six, and red two," she declared.

T'Pol's left eyebrow arched sky high, she set the cards on the table and announced, "Congratulations."

" _Seriously_?" Amanda yelped, groping at the cards to examine them without caring how rude the gesture appeared. "You let me win."

"I assure you, I did not. A game only has value when played in earnest."

Amanda bellowed a laugh, which she only managed to stifle by slapping her hand over her mouth.

"Well played," she mumbled, feeling suddenly like a very poor sport.

"Agreed," T'Pol replied. "Would you like to continue?"

Amanda looked around at the sea of plants and frowned. "I've already taken up so much of your time."

"You have helped me tend the nursery these last weeks, and I am grateful. I believe that is the very essence of friendship."

She returned the words with a sad smile, knowing she would have gone crazy were it not for T'Pol. After her visit to Shi'Kahr Academy to sit in on Tolek's linguistics panel, he'd sought her assistance with revising a paper on colloquialisms in Federation Standard English, but aside from that, she'd been bored out of her mind. She started dropping by the nursery at dawn most days to help T'Pol, and though the woman offered to pay her, Amanda always refused, citing her desire to avoid putting any kind of contract on their friendship.

"You seem troubled," T'Pol mused.

Her eyes darted across the small metal table to see the older Vulcan woman watching her.

"I haven't been myself lately," she admitted. "I'm jittery and irritated all the time."

"Have you ever considered taking up meditation?"

"To relax my brain even further?" Amanda scoffed. "I'm tired of doing  _nothing_. Sometimes it's hard not to resent my husband for dragging me to a planet where any time I'm out in public, I get nothing but side eyes and short remarks."

She felt her face turning bright red before the words finished escaping her mouth and wished there were a way to retract them, and yet, releasing them had been cathartic. She'd never thought being married to a Vulcan ambassador would be easy, and while she had agreed to come to Vulcan with her husband, but she was so rarely  _with_  her husband on Vulcan. She knew it wasn't his responsibility to keep her occupied, but she'd been trying for a year to find some way of fitting in and failed at almost every turn.

"Vulcan is not renowned for being an easy planet for off-worlders to embrace," T'Pol said. "Particularly not for humans."

"How would you know what it's like to be a human on Vulcan?"

"I know what it is like to be Vulcan on Earth, and I also once had a very close friend and colleague who struggled to understand many Vulcan customs."

Amanda tried pushing away her annoyance at T'Pol's attempts to commiserate with her. There was no point in driving away the one friend she had, but she was beginning to feel angry that she felt so angry all the time, which even she had to admit was about as ridiculous as ridiculous could be.

"Could you teach me?"

"What do you wish to learn?"

"How to meditate. Sarek has shown me some things but it never seems to work out very well."

"I imagine it would be difficult to attain a minimum necessary level of focus when the instructor is also one's bonded mate," T'Pol admitted.

Amanda helped T'Pol clear the back room of the nursery and shut the business down for the day and then followed her to the small house just behind the shop.

Soon Amanda was in the familiar kneeling position that Sarek had shown her, and T'Pol was instructing her on methods of breathing in through her belly without directly concentrating on breathing.

"I've never been able to focus on a single point with any accuracy," Amanda admitted with a sigh.

"Mind your breathing," T'Pol corrected, not even bothering to open her eyes to address her student.

She clenched her jaw and went back to the regular inhalations and exhalations, wondering why this never seemed to work for her.

"There are many forms of meditation," T'Pol murmured. "And no one correct way to meditate. Concentration meditation can be difficult, but I have found that the occasional negative emotion can be easily subdued with mindfulness alone."

" _Mindfulness_ ," Amanda thought, rolling her closed eyes.

It seemed like a pseudo-word, something used by new age types that described a term that meant nothing of substance.

"Do not concentrate on your thoughts; simply allow them to exist and observe them as they flow from the subconscious. Do not allow yourself to get involved with the thoughts. Do not consider them – simply to be aware of each as it comes."

"That seems so much easier said than done," Amanda whispered.

"It will take time to become accustomed to it."

Amanda clenched her eyes tightly and nodded. She had asked T'Pol to show her how to meditate, after all, and T'Pol deserved better than whining.

In and out, in and out, in and out she breathed. Her thoughts didn't seem to flow from her subconscious like T'Pol suggested, but seemed to bounce around at random like a flurry of ping pong balls. The unifying theme was Sarek.

_How annoyed she was at him. How his hands felt when the gripped her waist. How he was always gone. How delicious his tongue felt rolling across her body. How he never seemed to take her side. How she missed feeling his consciousness mingle with her own. How he loved logic more than her. How she longed to feel him inside her._

She gasped for air as the feelings started to overpower her.

"Try to refocus yourself," T'Pol urged.

" _Shut up_!" Amanda shrieked.

She clapped her hand over her mouth and stared wide-eyed at her friend who had finally broken her light meditative state to observe Amanda with more curiosity than seemed possible for a Vulcan.

"I- I'm so sorry- I have no idea- I don't-" Amanda choked.

She shook her hands at the wrists and felt tears forming in her eyes. She rocked forward back and forth before standing to stumble toward the door, terrified she'd just lost the one friend holding her sanity intact.

"Amanda," T'Pol called.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," she wailed. "I can't- I can hardly think straight anymore. I can't eat, I can't sleep. I'm falling apart."

Something about her words struck a chord with the Vulcan woman. She tucked her chin and cautiously asked, "How long has this been going on?"

"I don't know," she sniffed. "It's been so gradual I couldn't really say. A couple of weeks? Maybe a little more than a month? I thought I was just lonely after Sybok left, but I was feeling agitated  _before_. I have no idea."

"And how long has your husband been gone?"

"Almost three months," she fumed.

"Is  _he_  well?"

"How would  _I_  know? He's always too busy working or meditating," she growled. "Screw meditation!"

"Is he due home soon?"

"I don't know. And what does  _that_  have to do with anything?"

T'Pol's face remained frozen but she seemed…  _uncomfortable_. Amanda fought to rein in her manic emotions and put her hands on her knees to take several deep breaths, feeling the sting of salty tears trickle down her face.

"I'm so sorry, T'Pol," she mumbled. "I should probably go before I make things worse."

"Amanda, is it possible for you to go to Ambassador Sarek?"

"I doubt it. Maybe. I don't know," she sighed, putting her hand on the door. "Even if I did go to Coridan, I doubt we would have much time to spend together. I don't want to get in his way."

"I urge you to contact him as soon as you are able."

"Why?"

"He may… it is possible he can explain."

"Explain what?"

"Please contact him."

"And say  _what_?"

"Tell him everything you've just told me."

Amanda dragged her palms along her face, wishing the burning in her cheeks would subside. "I feel kind of weird discussing my marriage with you because I can tell it's making you uncomfortable."

"Yes," T'Pol agreed.

"I'm sorry for that too."

"There is no need to apologize. I hope you… can resolve your situation."

T'Pol's PADD sounded an alert. She glanced at it and explained, "I need to answer this transmission. Excuse me."

"Of course."

Amanda drove him feeling like an antiquated rolodex of terrible adjectives.  _Humiliated. Moody. Sad. Angry. Irritated. Lonely. Distracted._

When she let her mind relax too much, she quickly found herself growing aroused thinking of any number of intimate thoughts about her husband. It was becoming bad enough that she was beginning to wonder if she was turning into a teenage boy.

She did as T'Pol suggested and called Sarek when she got home, but as she suspected might happen, she got no answer. She flopped into bed and stared up at the ceiling, wondering if she was starting to lose her mind. Would they take her to a psychiatric facility? What did a Vulcan psychiatric facility even look like? How would Sarek react to having a wife whose mental faculties were beginning to crack?

She had nothing but time to dwell on her fears, because no matter what she tried, sleep continued to elude her.

* * *

Sarek's work on Coridan was complete – hostilities between Orion and Coridan had been averted once again, Ithen was still upholding their end of the agreement, and the Federation's main supplier of dilithium would continue to deliver on schedule. Now he needed to return home, but a last minute request from Federation Councilwoman T'Lona kept him on the foggy, hostile planet.

She was coming to Coridan to meet with the signatories of the revised trade agreement and requested his presence. He'd attempted to explain his urgent need to return to Vulcan under the guise of having neglected both his duties to the Vulcan Science Academy and Earth for far longer than he'd intended, but she insisted he could postpone his trip for several more days. Logically her argument was sound, but Sarek was no longer acting logically.

He was only days away from the plak tow and was no longer the rational diplomat everyone knew him to be. He could compose himself for short periods, but withdrew to his private rooms and meditate in between fits of unchecked emotion. His aides knew better than to disturb him, so when he heard a gentle knock on the door, his lips curled into an involuntary snarl.  _Why would someone come at this late hour_?

_Breathe in, breathe out._  "Yes?"

"Sorry to disturb you, Ambassador Sarek," called Varis. "Councilwoman T'Lona has arrived and has asked to meet with you."

" _Now_?" His voice quavered, and he clenched his teeth so hard he heard an audible pop of his jaw.

"Yes."

"Very well," he barked.

He stood from his kneeling position and checked his appearance in the mirror. He was perspiring, which was a phenomenon not commonly observed in healthy Vulcans. He patted his forehead and cheeks dry, resisted the urge to scream, and lumbered in the direction of the door.

He found Varis waiting in the corridor and sent him away. The less time he spent in the company of others, the better. His situation was distasteful enough without the junior staffer's eye upon him. He walked to the Councilwoman's temporary offices at a slow and deliberate pace, careful to display outward decorum.

He realized he should be grateful for the late hour, since the hallways were virtually deserted, but the idea that he was being summoned from his quarters in the middle of the night still irritated him.

He prepared to knock on the Councilwoman's door but heard her speaking. He breathed deeply, folded his hands in front of him, and waited by the door with his eyes closed.

" _You are certain she cannot go now_?"

There was a faint voice obscured by static.

" _When do you suppose she will be ready_?"

The faint voice issued another inaudible reply.

" _Yes, I have been informed_."

A pause.

" _Yes, he has remained quite adamant; he wants her_."

A longer pause.

" _Very well, thank you for the information. Your service honors Vulcan and the Federation. Live long and prosper_."

Sarek's interest was piqued but his mind couldn't sort out the information. He attempted to rationally explore the possibilities, but his thoughts were in chaos without the serenity of logic. He needed to be alone to meditate. No, he needed to be with his mate, not marooned on Coridan at the behest of an arrogant politician.

He rapped his knuckles on the back of the door and pulled together whatever scraps of civility he could muster.

"Enter," the councilwoman called.

"I come to serve," he breathed, presenting the ta'al.

"Ambassador Sarek, your service honors the Federation," she replied, returning the gesture.

He tucked his hands behind his back and waited for her to invite him to sit.

"It has been a long time, ambassador."

"Yes," he agreed.

She peered at him from across the small desk, narrowing her eyes as they came to rest on his face. Here was his opportunity.

"Councilwoman, I must ask-"

"I understand your desire to return to Vulcan immediately; I am willing to honor your request."

He stared at her for a moment, but corrected his rudeness and offered a deferential nod. "Secretary Varis is capable of assisting you with whatever you require."

"Yes," she murmured. "I shall send for him in the morning. For now, the diplomatic vessel that delivered me to Coridan is waiting to return you to Vulcan."

_She knew_. How unfortunate that a member of the Federation Council knew of his personal situation. The muscles of his jaw tensed but through sheer willpower, he managed to retain his composure.

"I thank you for the gesture."

"It was well deserved. Your service in this matter has been invaluable to the Federation."

He nodded again, certain he could no longer keep his voice level.

"Live long and prosper, Ambassador Sarek."

"Peace and long life," he replied, regrettably slurring his words.

As he stepped into the hallway, he took in a sharp breath through his teeth.

"Ambassador?"

" _What_?"

Varis bowed his head and replied, "The Councilwoman's ship is standing by at port. I have informed the staff to begin packing your belongings-"

"Send my things later," he snarled. He swallowed carefully and added, "Please."

"Certainly," Varis agreed, following him down the hall several paces behind him.

"Councilwoman T'Lona will require your assistance tomorrow," Sarek snapped.

"Yes, certainly."

"What do you  _need_ , Secretary Varis?"

The young Vulcan seemed ready to speak, but after a momentary pause, simply said, "Nothing. Live long and prosper, ambassador."

"Yes," Sarek replied, willing himself to reply, "Peace and long life."

When he arrived at the terminal, he found no shuttle crew, but instead was directed to a transporter pad. Though Vulcans were slower to embrace transporter technology, it was widely used throughout Starfleet. Sarek disliked the idea of his body being transformed into a matter stream, but at this particular juncture, he was willing to submit himself to the efficiency of a transporter.

He was shown to the guest quarters and once he was finally alone, he allowed himself to pant and seethe. His condition must be readily apparent to anyone who encountered him, but there was nothing he could do. He reached for his PADD on the inside of his cloak to contact Amanda and tell her to expect him in nineteen hours, but he had left it in the room.

He clenched his fists so hard his nails drew blood on the inside of his palms and he uttered a guttural yell. His logic was gone, and he had no means of coping with the residual emotions left to him. Nineteen hours until he was with Amanda.  _Nineteen hours had never seemed so long._

He was uncertain how his mate was faring. He regretted having to leave immediately following the loss of her pregnancy, and regretted even more that he failed to bid her a proper farewell. At the time it had seemed illogical to stay – his presence wouldn't have altered the outcome. Yet now, without the safety of logic, he wanted nothing more than to be with her.

More than anything else, he regretted the loss of control that had led her to become pregnant in the first place. She had not completed her fertility treatments and her body had been so thin and frail. He'd taken advantage of her. Now, without the façade of logic, he was acutely aware that he loved her more than he'd ever understood. He loved her and he needed her, and he had hurt her and left her hurting, and could do nothing to suppress his guilt.

_Nineteen hours was a relative eternity._

When the ship entered a standard orbit around his home world, a throbbing sensation began to course through his body. He burned for her, and she was near.

The captain paged his quarters to offer to escort him to the transporter room as was customary for a person of his rank and status, but Sarek refused as graciously has he could manage. He was visibly shaking as he stood on the transporter pad, causing the human operator to ask if he was well.

"Yes," he hissed. "You have the coordinates?"

"Yes?" the slender young man replied.

"Then what are you waiting for?"

"Uh, nothing, sir- ambassador. Safe travels."

"My safety is in  _your_  hands," he rebutted. "Perhaps you should offer pleasantries to yourself instead."

Sarek exhaled and stared at the floor as the flustered operator mumbled, "Energizing."

Sarek felt the unusual sensation of being pulled apart and reassembled, and found himself approximately seventy meters from his front door in the rough brush of the desert.

How could the transporter technician of a private transport vessel for the Federation Council  _be_  so incompetent?

He headed for his house with a quick and careful stride, scanning the darkness for nocturnal dangers. Vulcans had poor night vision and this too, though completely illogical, became a source of annoyance.

As he approached the house, he reflexively began to tremble in anticipation. He needed to mate, to bond, to be near her. He felt ready to jump out of his skin as deep, primal energy coursed harder through his body.

Soon he was on the porch and his fingers began to claw at the keypad by the door. He pushed the door open with more force than he intended and immediately noted the soft light streaming from the kitchen.

" _Sarek_?"

_Her voice_. She was afraid, but that was understandable. He should have notified her that he was returning home unexpectedly, but none of it seemed to matter anymore.

He moved to the kitchen with a singular purpose and met her in front of the atrium. Her eyes were wide and wild and her lips were pursed into an expression bordering on pain.

"You're shaking," her voice cracked. "Sarek, there's something wrong-"

He couldn't consciously control his hands as they slipped over the gentle slope of her cheeks to meld their minds together. She gasped, but then grabbed his face and pulled him into a violent kiss.

The feel of her lips on his, coupled with the free exchange of their tumultuous emotions began to relieve him of a burden that had been hanging over him for months, but now he realized just how much she'd been suffering too. Sympathetic pon farr was apparently not limited to Vulcan females.

Guilt and regret pulsed through him.

"I'm ok," Amanda murmured, kissing him again. "I-  _ugh_ \- Sarek- I-"

"I know," he gulped. "And I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Neglecting you and leaving you like this."

Her face contorted into shock and she started to laugh, but looked equally confused by the source of her laughter.

"What's going on?" she croaked.

"I am- I- I am experiencing pon farr," he admitted.

Her face softened and she gripped both side of his face tightly to deliver a gentle kiss to his lips. He hungered for her again, but somehow found the presence of mind to examine her slender body.

"Are you well?"

"I think I will be now that you're here," she whispered, resting her forehead on his chin.

His hands traced along her shoulders and once again found her face. As their minds converged on their mutual need to bond, it sparked another need in Sarek. A more  _physical_  need.

"Amanda, I need- will you consent-"

" _Yes_ ," she interrupted, pressing her small body against his and whimpering, "Because I need you too."


	13. Pon Farr and Other Problems

**February 2229**

Dusk was falling over Shi'Kahr, casting a radiant glow through the portico curtains. He studied her figure in the fading light – her small breasts and pale skin, the short, wispy hairs of her arms and the sunspots on the bridge of her nose. He'd long ago committed these things to memory, but a body was not a fixed thing.

Neither was love. He wondered if he loved her more in these moments or if it was simply that he had allowed himself to feel the full weight of his love for her. Perhaps it was both.

She shuddered and flopped onto her back, swinging her lifeless left hand across her body to deliver a feeble, backhanded slap to his chest. She had been restless in her sleep these last few days. He hadn't slept at all.

As she fell into a rhythm of low, rumbling snores, he sat up on his elbow to consider her more fully. She always fell asleep immediately after mating, but he'd learned years ago it was simply a consequence of their different biochemistries.

Vulcan males produced a chemical that acted as a mild central depressant in Vulcan females to lower their neurotransmission levels following copulation; evolutionary biologists believed it was to help females relax and aid in the process of conception. Unfortunately, the chemical was analogous to a compound commonly used for general anesthesia in humans, and it rendered Amanda unconscious for approximately fifteen minutes after mating.

It had been two days since he'd come home in the middle of the night, raging and stumbling into her comforting embrace. They had forgone the ancient rituals, preferring immediate resolution to their mutual torment.

He was grateful for their mating bond – during that first frenzied bonding, he'd flipped her on her stomach and in the midst of his passions, had bitten her hard enough on the back of the neck to draw blood. She had screamed and her pain had become his pain, and despite the complete loss of his logic, he could not manage to be rough enough with her to injure her.

The same had been true for Amanda. His eyes trailed to his flanks, observing the angry green lines she'd carved with her sharp fingernails on their second mating. The moment she had perceived his discomfort, she'd retracted her hands from his hip and almost cried, but they'd been too consumed with the blood fever to cease.

They had mated a total of fifteen times, breaking only to sleep, eat, and bathe, though not all of the breaks had been successful.

He thought of the table in the kitchen, and how he would need to tighten the screws in the bottom support stretchers after Amanda had playfully straddled him while they ate breakfast earlier that morning. Then there was the inverter in the sonic shower that she'd accidentally pulled from the wall when she lost her balance the day before during a moment of ecstasy.

His mind was becoming clearer and he felt more at ease. The irritation and rage had faded and in their place, affection had begun to flourish. Earlier that afternoon, Amanda had interrupted her delicate kisses to refer to the sentiment as "warm fuzzies."  _A curious term._

He knew he should leave her and begin the arduous process restoring his rigid logical faculties through meditation, but he was not ready to pull himself away. Tomorrow morning, perhaps.

She shifted in her sleep to snuggle her face into his chest. He allowed his fingertips to slide around the form of her left breast and along the shape of her ribcage, noting how visible the individual bones were. She had lost a lot of body fat enduring the fertility treatments, and though she'd gained some of it back, she was still thinner than she ought to be.

Two days of persistent mating had also left much of her body aching, and during their last encounter, he could sense the tenderness of her muscles wearing on her. He rested his hand on her side, feeling the slow thump of the four-chambered heart in her chest.

His palm glided down the slope of her waist to rest on her hip. Human females had exceptionally long torsos in relation to their Vulcan counterparts, but they were also shorter of stature. He ran his hand along her midsection, allowing his thumb to catch in the gentle indentation of her navel. He submitted to a curious, illogical impulse and delivered a soft kiss to the top of her head.

"Good morning," she purred.

"It is not morning," he replied.

She turned her head toward the window and shrugged. "Morning, evening. It hasn't really made much of a difference in the past few days."

She wriggled her body to be eyelevel to him and gave him a tender kiss. He  _still_  hungered for her. She slipped her hand down his chest, down his abdomen, and down further still, but he caught her by the wrist. He craved her touch, but she needed to rest.

"I'm fine," she murmured.

"As I have told you many times in the past, 'fine' has variable definitions."

She gave him a pointed look, pushed her body into his, and started kissing her neck.  _Why did she insist on tempting him_?

He freed her wrist and cupped her face, melding their minds together. Though mating was a vital part of alleviating the symptoms of pon farr by providing close physical contact, it was the shared telepathic link between their minds that helped  _overcome_  the undesirable emotional imbalance. As their thoughts and emotions began to converge, Amanda shut her eyes and inhaled.

" _I love you_ ," she said through their bond.

And he loved her too.

He watched her face carefully. They remained joined for several minutes until his mind was fully joined with hers and he could sense the deepest parts of her consciousness.

He realized for the first time just how unfulfilled his mate really felt, but before he could really explore this sentiment, she gasped and wrenched her face away, pulling herself up to a sitting position. He propped himself up on his elbows and reached for her forefingers, but she pulled her hand back, wrapping her arms around her knees and staring at her feet. Her face wore a slack expression.

" _Amanda_?" he asked through their mating bond.

Her eyes turned first, then her head.  _Such human eyes_.

" _Why did you withdraw_?" he queried, trying to probe her thoughts.

She was working very hard to push his mind away, and given the intensity of her efforts, he respected her wishes to be mentally apart. Rather than speak, he chose to observe her. After a full minute of their silent stalemate, Amanda rose from the bed and shuffled toward the bathroom.

He wanted to call out to her and was tempted to follow her when she returned holding the small medical kit. Without saying a word, she sat next to him and pulled the small dermal regenerator from the case and started to mend the deep gashes on his hips.

Her touch was gentle. She traced the device along the thick scabs that had formed, her steady and patient hands moving with careful concentration.

"I don't resent you," she finally said, turning off the dermal regenerator.

She stared down at her hands and bit the inside of her cheek.

"Sometimes I wish I were more like you, because I know you don't mean- what I mean to say is- I wish I could shut all my emotions down and not feel annoyed or lonely or-" Her voice hesitated and he could see her hands were trembling.

"It is evident I intruded upon a part of your mind you wished to keep private from me," he replied.

She finally found the courage to look at him, and when their eyes met, he noted an unusual intensity radiating from deep within her. "I know I have illogical feelings sometimes, and I  _know_  they're illogical, but I can't help them."

"I recall the day I met you in your home in San Francisco three years and six days ago after an unfortunate incident at a conference; you expressed anxiety that you'd never conversed with a Vulcan. I believe I told you then to be as you are, and I have never changed my opinion on the matter."

"Even if I occasionally have feelings that are hurtful? I realize you must think being hurt by my feelings is illogical, but I guess I don't want you thinking I don't love you or don't want to be with you."

"That is an illogical assumption," he explained. "I understand life on Vulcan is difficult for you."

"Do you  _really_  though? I hate being left here alone all the time," she blurted. "And I know that's not your fault, and I know I could go with you – well,  _sometimes_  I can go with you. I'm just…"

"Lonely," he finished.

She cocked her head, allowing her lips to part slightly. " _Yes_."

She lay down next to him, curling herself into the crook of his arm. Her forefingers traced invisible lines on the muscles of his chest. He still found himself drawn to her, but he didn't hunger for the same way he had before. His pon farr was all but resolved and now he required deep reflection and mental reconditioning. Yet he sensed that his mate required comfort, and though he lacked expertise in consoling her, he sensed Amanda desired him to stay.

 _He_  desired to be Vulcan again and feel the serenity of logic without the burden of conflicting emotions, but he had chosen to take a human mate, and it seemed reasonable that he should make occasional concessions to her emotional state, just as she made many concessions to his logic.

"I'm sorry for not telling you about Sybok and T'Rea sooner," she murmured several minutes later.

He felt a pinch of aggravation and for the first time in two days, attempted to repress an emotion. It proved difficult, but it  _was_  possible.  _It was curious she would broach that subject now._

"You acted as you believed the situation warranted."

"He's not a bad child, Sarek," she pushed. "He's such a joy to have around. He's so- he's-"

"Amanda, resentment is illogical."

He knew she'd forged an unusually strong bond with the child during his former mate's convalescence, but he had no opinion on the matter. He suspected her attachment to Sybok was likely the result of a misdirected, vestigial, maternal instinct and her desire to have a child.

"Not resenting him is not the same thing as accepting him," she argued.

"True."

"So you don't want him after his mother passes?"

"I agreed to accept him."

"But do you  _want_  to accept him? Do you want him here?"

"Prior to agreeing to acknowledge the child as my legal heir, I concluded it was logical to consider the possibility that his mother could die or become unable to care for him prior to him reaching the age of majority."

"Please just answer the question," she sighed. "Do you want him here – yes or no?"

"I do not want him here if you do not."

Though she was doing her best to conceal her emotions, he felt a sharp burst of anger and hurt emanate from her and could see those feelings forming on her face.

"Well, I guess I asked for your opinion and I should respect how you feel," she breathed, her voice stiff and hollow.

"It is not a matter of feelings, Amanda: it is a matter of logistics. When I considered the possibility I could become responsible for caring for him, I did not have a mate. I was prepared to employ a caregiver for Sybok and provide for him financially, but my duties prohibit me from granting him the necessary attention to ensure he has a correct upbringing. Now that we have become mates, I would not place the burden of raising him upon you if you did not wish to carry it, but I would still fulfill my financial obligations to him as his legal father."

"He isn't a  _burden_  though, Sarek."

"I sense that he helped you cope with your loneliness, and for that, I am grateful for him."

Her face was difficult to interpret but her mind was beginning to settle.

"I feel like that means you're saying you'll only allow him to live here if I'll take care of him. But if he comes to live with us, and he  _will_  eventually, I'm afraid you'll- I don't know- treat him like he doesn't belong here."

"To do so would be illogical."

"I hear you  _saying_  that, but-"

"Do you imply I shall treat him cruelly?

"Of course not; I  _know_  you wouldn't. I guess what I'm trying to say is I'm worried you'll  _tolerate_  him to an extent, but you won't accept him as a member of our family."

"I am uncertain of the precise manner in which I will treat him, as I have no experience in rearing children."

"Neither do  _I_ , obviously, but I don't think I would treat Sybok any differently than I would treat our own children," she groaned, before lowering her voice to add, " _If we ever have any_."

Her comment supported his theory she was adamant about caring for Sybok because she feared she would never have biological children of her own. He considered asking her to confirm his suspicions, but decided her motivations were irrelevant. She was determined to embrace Sybok as her son, and for her, Sarek would attempt to do the same.

"Sybok is my legal heir and it would be illogical to alienate him from my household," he finally said. "If you will care for him, I will provide for him, and we will be as his parents."

She sighed and rested her cheek on the side of his chest. He could feel the fluttering of her eyelashes as she blinked and the moisture of her breath on his skin. Sarek sensed she was relieved, but still conflicted.

"What is the source of your distress?" he asked.

"I'm not upset," she replied, resting her head on his arm and intertwining her two forefingers in his. "Having Sybok here… you were right, he made me feel a lot less lonely. I miss him."

He was uncertain how to respond, and knew that sometimes when Amanda made a declaration, she did not expect a response. He continued to relax his mind, still finding it difficult through the lingering chemical imbalance.

He freed his hand from hers and cupped her neck, sensing a dull ache radiating through the musculature of her upper body. He pushed his thumb into one of the neural nodes near the base of her skull, causing her to whimper.

"It hurts so good," she winced.

Their activities of the past few days had been hard on their bodies. He pressed deeper and kneaded for a minute before moving on to the neural node on the other side of her neck, feeling the softness of her skin and the subtle shivering of her muscles. She uttered a series of soft groans, and he discovered he was able to adequately suppress his lust for her.

She pulled herself into a sitting position and Sarek sat behind her, working his knuckles and fingertips down her arms and back. Properly applied neuropressure was often painful, but Amanda seemed to relish in it, aside from an occasional yelp or twitch.

As he progressed, he felt her breathing shift into a low, steady pattern. He could sense the pulse of her mind, often disordered and riddled with emotional energy, was beginning to flow in a more logical order.  _She was meditating_.

They continued for several more minutes, Sarek soothing her sore muscles and Amanda soothing her troubled mind, until her body started to slump forward. Not long after that, she was asleep.

Though he felt an urge to remain with her, he also yearned to meditate and assemble the pieces of his mind to their rightful state. He waited a short time, and when he was convinced she was nestled in a heavy slumber, he stood to dress himself.

He felt the pull of his own strained muscles and opted to spend a length of time in the sonic shower, allowing the pulse vibrations to lightly massage his body. When he was done, he dressed and made his way to the kitchen for a glass of water.

Before he could take his first sip, he heard his PADD chirping and followed the sound to the sitting room. They had shed their clothing en route to the bedroom and he found his cloak draped on the seat of the black chaise and extracted the wailing device from the wide, interior pocket.

 _Councilwoman T'Lona_. How unusual that a Federation Councilmember would contact him directly.

He clicked on the audio link to answer the transmission.

"Councilwoman."

"Ambassador Sarek, I apologize for my intrusion."

He experienced a wave of embarrassment – she was apologizing for intruding upon his regrettable situation, given it was not an unusual time of day to contact him. He breathed, willing himself to suppress the distasteful emotion.

"How may I be of assistance?" he asked.

"The United Rigel Colonies are unhappy with the terms of the trade agreement you negotiated on Coridan," she replied.

Annoyance crept into his consciousness but he collected himself. The Rigelians had been invited to attend the negotiations due to their close partnership with Ithen, but they had declined.

"What sections of the trade agreement do they object to?"

"I shall forward their correspondence for your review," the councilwoman replied. "They have asked for an emergency meeting on Babel with the trade agreement partners, and they have agreed. The Federation Council requests your presence, as you are most familiar with the situation."

"When do the discussions begin?"

"The trade partners are en route to Babel now and intend to hold initial discussions in eighteen hours. We ask that you leave Vulcan as soon as you are able."

Sarek considered the odd request. He  _was_  most familiar with the dynamics of the parties involved, but there were other diplomats capable of managing this setback. Given T'Lona knew of his unfortunate private situation and that most Vulcans took approximately ten to twelve days of personal leave to cope with pon farr, it was curious that she would insist that he should be the one to go when he had only had three days to recollect himself. Yet he did not see how he could refuse.

He would have to make efficient use of his time on the journey to Babel to recenter his logical mind, and would require Amanda's assistance to expedite the process. Though he was free from the grip of the plak tow, mind melding with Amanda was the most effective means of restoring his mental balance.

"I shall prepare myself for immediate departure and inform my mate to do the same."

"I regret to inform you that your mate will be unable to attend."

He very nearly demanded to know why, but it was not his place to question the councilwoman's decision. The fact that his initial instinct was to question her at all demonstrated that he needed more time to recover from pon farr.

"I shall serve the Federation as the Council sees fit," he replied.

They exchanged pleasantries and she promised to forward him a travel itinerary. Sarek returned to the kitchen to drink his glass of water, then headed to the bedroom to tell Amanda that her loneliness would persist.

* * *

She sat on a low stool, weaving her fingers through the leaves of the small rosebush. The climate had killed all but this one, and it seemed like a fitting metaphor for her life. Vulcan had a knack for stripping away a lot of good things, but it couldn't kill  _everything_.

"We're a lot alike, you and me," she joked. "My little survivor."

She was talking to a rosebush. She was really  _that_  lonely.

Sarek had left in the predawn hours to travel to Rigel – or was it Babel? It didn't really matter. It wasn't  _here_.

It had been two glorious days with her husband, free from the restraints of his logic. She frowned, realizing all she had to do was wait seven more years to enjoy him on such a close, intimate level again.

Her body still ached but her heart felt full. Helping Sarek cope with his pon farr had worked wonders at chipping away much of her growing annoyance and resentment, but now that he was gone again and she was alone, she wondered how long her good mood would last. She already missed him.

The light was changing rapidly as day broke over the horizon. Amanda felt the urge to go inside. Most mornings she would leave around this time to go to the nursery and help care for T'Pol's plants, but she wasn't sure if she was still welcome. She felt like she should probably call and apologize for her awful behavior now that she had a clearer head, but she wasn't quite ready.

She considered T'Pol's words the last time they'd spoken.  _How long has your husband been gone? Is he well? Is he due home soon?_

It was clear T'Pol knew  _exactly_  what was happening to Amanda and had been trying to help her solve the problem, so she figured T'Pol would probably understand and act like nothing had ever happened. Still, it was  _embarrassing_. Yet T'Pol was the only friend she had – only adult friend within sixteen light years without a fur coat anyway – and she didn't want to throw away their friendship over her own humiliation.

She would contact T'Pol, but not today.  _Not yet_.

But that still left her wondering how to spend her day. Maybe she could take I-Chaya and go for a walk before the weather got too warm. It was officially winter again on Vulcan, but the planet had such short seasons Amanda didn't know if "winter" was really the best term. It was more like a brief timeframe in which the weather was merely uncomfortable instead of devastating.

She slogged inside and trudged down the wide hallway to the kitchen to make some tea. Just as the water came to a boil, the door buzzed.  _Who would show up at this hour_?

She glanced down at her oversized t-shirt and baggy gray sweatpants. With the exception of Sreil, the Vulcan social worker who had brought Sybok, the only person who ever visited was T'Pol. Of course, if T'Pol assumed Amanda was still enduring pon farr with her husband, surely she wouldn't have come.  _Would she_?

The buzzing sound echoed through the hall. She grimaced and pulled her fingers through her hair to smooth it down as she headed for the door.

She peeked through the security hole and felt her heart nearly stall in her chest. T'Pol had come, but so had  _T'Pau_. She reexamined herself and felt horrified. She wondered what the record was for getting dressed to receive important government officials.

_Buzz. Buzz. Buzz._

She glared at the door, pondering how two Vulcan women could be so impatient and lack the decency to call before coming over at 0600 in the morning.

 _Buzz_.

She figured the best way to play it was to act like they'd woken her up and pretend like she had no idea who was at the door. She hit the latch with a reluctant finger and pulled the door open.

"T'Pol?" she rubbed her eyes. "And- oh,  _Minister T'Pau_. Oh I'm so sorry, forgive-"

"Forgive  _us_ for the intrusion, Amanda," T'Pol said. "May we come in?"

Though her voice held the standard, mostly monotone Vulcan quality, there was something different in her inflection.

"Um,  _yes_." She swallowed hard and dared herself to look at T'Pau's stern expression.

She opened the door to allow them to pass over the threshold. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but why have you come?" She wanted to add, "at dawn" but didn't want to be rude.

T'Pol shot a glance at T'Pau, who simply replied, "Amanda Grayson, the Federation requires your assistance."

"The- the  _Federation_?" she stammered. " _What_?"

"Will you agree to come with us?"

"Huh? Come with you?  _Where_?"

T'Pol and T'Pau exchanged looks.

It was T'Pau who broke the silence. "The Romulan Neutral Zone."


	14. The Truth About the War

**February 2229**

" _What_?"

"I believe I spoke clearly," T'Pau responded.

"Yes, you _did_. But you aren't speaking sense," Amanda countered, trying to keep a sneer off her face. "Why-"

"If you allow us to explain, we shall," T'Pol interrupted.

Amanda's mouth naturally fell open as she turned to her friend. She felt numb as the weight of their words pressed down on her and she realized that the slim possibility that they were joking was fading fast.

"What do you know of the Earth-Romulan War?" T'Pol asked.

" _I thought_ you _were going to explain_ ," Amanda thought bitterly before saying, "It- uh- the Federation – well, I guess it wasn't the Federation back then – the Romulans attacked two Earth star bases and they destroyed a lot of outer Earth and Andorian colonies before the Tellarites and Vulcans joined the war and helped turn the tide at Vela Gap a year later by destroying most of the Romulan armada. Then we went deep into Romulan territory and after the Battle of Cheron they agreed to an armistice. No one's heard from them since."

"A crude summary, but not an inaccurate depiction of the public perception," T'Pau replied.

"I'm not a historian," Amanda rebutted, suddenly feeling very bold against the intimidating Security Minister.

"But some of us _have_ heard from them since, isn't that correct?" T'Pau retorted, her eyes visibly narrowing.

Amanda's stomach sank. She said nothing for several seconds and tried to keep her face neutral.

"We have been informed by a very knowing individual that you are aware of the connection between Romulans and Vulcans," T'Pol added, shooting T'Pau a sidelong glance.

"Time is of the essence," T'Pau argued. "We can indulge her after our departure."

"I do not believe several minutes will make a difference," T'Pol countered. "She needs to understand if we are to have her cooperation and I believe she deserves to understand."

"Yes, I'm aware of the connection," Amanda finally said, biting down on her tongue as the last word left her mouth. "And obviously you are too. So what?"

"It is important to understand what the Earth-Romulan war did to the Romulan Star Empire. The joint pre-Federation fleet destroyed three-quarters of the Empire's warp capable ships, and those that remained were nearly obsolete," T'Pol explained.

"So that seems good," Amanda mused. "Unless they've spent the last six decades rebuilding a fleet and are on the verge of a second invasion. Wait, that's not what's happening, is it?"

She swallowed hard. The thought hadn't even occurred to her until she said it out loud. There had been more speculation about Romulans in the news lately. Or maybe it just seemed that way?

"No," T'Pau admitted. "Our intelligence shows the loss of the war collapsed their economy. Before their failed invasion, the Romulans had a permanent war economy centered on supplying the Imperial Guard with personnel and vessels for conquest. When they lost the bulk of their fleet, the government could barely meet the basic needs of its people, even on the Romulan home world.

"In the final months of the war, the small Romulan merchant fleet was ordered into emergency service and also destroyed, which left them unable to resupply their outer colonies. Many of these colonies eventually rebelled and sued for independence and the Empire was powerless to stop them, not only because it lacked a military force, but also because it executed most of the competent leadership in the Imperial Guard and the Senate following the loss of the war."

Amanda was growing frustrated with the history lesson. She stole a glance at T'Pol, noticing the older woman had her hands tucked neatly behind her back, reminding her of her husband when he was deep in thought.

"The Romulans are a suspicious race," T'Pol declared. "After their unexpected loss, they didn't expect the Federation to honor the armistice."

"But we have," Amanda interrupted. "I mean- _haven't_ we?"

"Yes, and the Federation Council and each of the respective Federation planets will continue to do so," T'Pau replied. "Yet for many years the Empire believed the Federation was little more than an anti-Romulan alliance, which was not entirely illogical, given the Federation was formed due to the initial Romulan threat."

"Time has proven to the Romulans that the Klingons are a far more dangerous adversary than the Federation," T'Pol explained, shifting the tone of the conversation. "And the Federation would tend to agree. I believe you are familiar with the Jouret IV colony?"

She _was_. More than fifty years ago, the Klingons had destroyed a Federation colony on Jouret IV near the borders of both the Romulan Neutral Zone and the Klingon Empire because they believed the inhabitants to be Romulan spies. The Federation had nearly gone to war with the Klingons, but a lot of diplomatic acrobatics had spared the Federation from another devastating conflict.

There had been a survivor on Jouret IV though, a young boy named Maxwell Bentham. Bentham went on to serve in Starfleet intelligence and later captured a Romulan warbird and discovered the Romulans had developed plans for a large-scale weapon that could effectively destroy a planet from very remote distances. He then decided to go about building that weapon for himself to destroy both the Romulan and Klingon home worlds to avenge his dead family. Unfortunately his clandestine operation nearly started a war with the Romulans and cost a lot of Federation lives, including Amanda's father.

It had been people working for Bentham who had kidnapped Amanda and Sarek in a last ditch effort to learn the location of a helium-3 deposit – the necessary final component of the weapon. She had been tortured before she and Sarek had managed to overcome their captors, only to discover they were on the cloaked, commandeered Romulan warbird and the ship's captain, a man named Llhran, was understandably quite unhappy with their presence on his ship.

"Amanda?" T'Pol asked.

She snapped out of her daydream and started to see the pieces fall together. "I know about the Jouret colony, but I also know the Romulans haven't been sitting idly by while the remains of their empire rot away. They had, or _have_ , plans for a weapon – a planet-killing weapon."

T'Pau nodded as something close to a static smile spread across her sharp face. "The Romulans could not immediately restore their fleet, manpower, or leadership, but they did wisely invest most of their remaining resources in the development of new technologies. The remote thalaron radiation weapon you mentioned is only one example. They've made numerous improvements to cloaking technology, artificial gravity well propulsion, and various weapons systems."

"So they _are_ preparing for another war against the Federation?"

"An illogical conclusion," T'Pau barked.

"We do not believe so," T'Pol added more gently. "At least not at this time. The Klingons have posed a far more serious threat to the Romulan Star Empire in the last thirty years and have begun to expand into Romulan space. Following the Earth-Romulan War, a small movement began on Romulus, seeking to reunify Romulans and Vulcans. The movement has continued to gain momentum."

"How is that going to work if most Vulcans don't even know they share a common ancestry with Romulans?"

" _Delicately_." T'Pau sniffed slightly and stared at Amanda.

"Which brings us to the point," T'Pol continued. "Those in favor of reunification are threatening to split the Romulan Star Empire at a time when it can not afford division, but the leaders of the movement are willing to risk a political schism if they can gain the Federation's assurance that we do not intend to launch a belligerent campaign."

"Are you saying we're about to strike an alliance with the Romulans? Against the Klingons?" Amanda breathed. "And why are you even telling me this?"

"We do not intend to enter into a war with the Klingons," T'Pol explained. "But we _are_ willing to guarantee that we shall remain neutral, unless the Klingons launch an attack on Federation space."

"And we are telling you because we require your assistance in brokering this negotiation," said T'Pau.

" _My_ assistance? _Me_?"

"You speak Romulan," T'Pol began.

"And I also spent years working on a universal translator," Amanda countered, her voice rise by several decibels.

"We do not require a translator; we require a diplomat," T'Pol finished.

"I don't know if you realize this, but I'm _not_ one."

"No, you are not," T'Pau admitted. "And were it up to me, you would not be joining us. You are emotional and inexperienced."

"I'm not even going to take that as an insult because it's _true_ ," Amanda laughed bitterly. "And I don't even know made the decision to 'let me join you' but as far as I can tell, the ultimate decision to _go_ rests with _me_."

"True," T'Pau agreed.

"So, why is it that you need _me_?"

"Because the de-facto leader of this government coups is a man named Llhran. He would only agree to meet with us to begin the next phase of negotiations if you were present."

"He asked for _me_? By name?"

"He asked for the human woman called Amanda and it was easy enough for Councilwoman T'Lona to deduce he was referring to you," T'Pau said. "I understand you have met the former Romulan captain."

"Yes, but so has Sarek. He was there too. Surely Sarek would be-"

"Councilwoman T'Lona wished to send Ambassador Sarek," T'Pau interrupted. "But Llhran does not want Ambassador Sarek, he wants _you_ , an external, non-Vulcan third party as a show of good faith. He trusts you, and believes you are capable of keeping a clear head without… the burden of _logic_ , as he claims."

Amanda took a few steps back and slumped onto the black chaise lounge, burying her face in her hands. After narrowly escaping death three years ago on the _Tafv_ with Sarek, all she wanted was a quiet life. Now that she had that quiet life and was bored out of her mind, she wanted something to occupy her time, but negotiating a secret, balance-of-power treaty with the Romulans wasn't exactly what she'd had in mind. _Why was there nothing in between_?

"We require an answer," T'Pau said.

Amanda pulled her hands down the flesh of her face and stared at the stern woman. "What am I supposed to say? You come to my house before dawn and tell me to take a trip with you to the Neutral Zone. I realize you probably thought I had nothing better to do since I don't keep a busy schedule, but I don't even know what my husband would say. I don't-"

"Your husband cannot know of this," T'Pau interjected.

"But he's my _husband_ ," she argued. "He'll figure it out eventually."

T'Pau's dark eyes peered at her, studying her in a way that made her feel like a child. "True. But he is not to be informed prior to the completion of this mission. Councilwoman T'Lona was very specific."

She thought back to Councilwoman T'Lona's unusual request for him to go to Babel – or was it Rigel? – and realized they had gotten him out of the way with some routine diplomatic matter in order to get her alone. She peered at Minister T'Pau and wanted to ask if Vulcans routinely meddled in people's private lives or if it was just a personal hobby.

"I have things here that I need to take care of," she explained, waving her hand around like it would help her make a better point.

"I believe you employ a caretaker for the estate when you are not present," T'Pol said.

"Will you come with us or do you refuse?" T'Pau insisted.

"This is all very sudden," Amanda said, her voice trailing off to a whisper. "I- I still have a lot of questions."

"Understandable," T'Pol said, taking several steps in her direction. "Minister T'Pau and I are willing to answer them, but we will need to leave soon to make our rendezvous. Will you come with us to reaffirm a peace treaty between the Romulan Star Empire and the Federation and begin the first steps toward the reunification of our peoples?"

Amanda was about to protest that the Vulcans weren't "her people," but realized in a way, they _were_. Aside from the fact that Earth and Vulcan were both founders of the Federation, her husband was Vulcan, and Vulcan was now her home. Not to mention that peace was in everyone's best interest. But still, she couldn't shake a horrible feeling that she was being sucked into something she didn't fully understand.

"The Federation Council – they know what we're doing?"

"Yes, as well as the Federation president," T'Pau replied.

"They know _everything_?"

"They possess enough information to draw an unbiased conclusion," T'Pau explained.

"Including the fact that Vulcans and Romulans are practically cousins?"

"That was irrelevant to their ability to make the decision to send an envoy to meet with the Romulans," T'Pau countered.

"It's _not_ irrelevant," Amanda snapped, squaring her shoulders back and wondering why she was challenging Minister T'Pau.

"Aside from Councilwoman T'Lona, no one else in the Federation government knows of the common ancestry between the Romulans and Vulcans," T'Pol admitted. "The Federation has still not recovered from Earth's secessionist attempt several years ago, and Councilwoman T'Lona feared that revealing such a link at this juncture would cause unnecessary damage to the fragile relationship between the Federation and the Romulan Star Empire, as well as Vulcan and the rest of the Federation."

"And if this works, you're just going to… _what_? Spring it on them in a few years?"

"We can discuss this on our journey," T'Pau interjected. "Will you agree to come?"

Amanda glanced back and forth between the two women. Euclid took that moment to leap onto the back of the chaise and begin howling at his human to pet him. T'Pau examined the cat carefully and added, "I shall personally ensure your _menagerie_ is attended to in your absence."

Thirty minutes later, Amanda was showered, dressed, and clutching a hastily packed bag as she stood on the covered entry to her home. They were waiting to be transported to a ship in orbit, and she could feel the hairs rising on the back of her neck.

It wasn't technically her first transport. She'd used a transporter three times before: once when she was abducted by Bentham's men and beamed aboard the _Tafv_ , once by the Vulcan research vessel which had transported her and Sarek out of the Romulan escape pod, and once when I-Chaya had mauled her and she was on the verge of bleeding to death. But this would still be her first _conscious_ transport. She reanalyzed the list and wondered how much weirder her life could be.

Soon she felt herself pulled into a rush of warm energy and felt the briefest moment of nothingness before she found herself standing on a small platform in a bright room. She was startled to find a human man in a nondescript black jumpsuit standing behind a long bank of complicated toggles and switches. She glanced over her shoulder at T'Pol.

"A small intelligence detachment within Starfleet has agreed to ferry us to our destination," her friend explained.

"And our destination is _where_ , exactly? I know you said the-"

" _Silence_." T'Pau's stiff voice echoed off the hard surfaces of the room.

She snuck a glace at the imposing figure of the Vulcan Security Minister and frowned. Apparently she'd just broken some kind of security protocol, but that was hardly surprising. Why did she expect Amanda to know the rules of covert diplomatic operations? Furthermore, she didn't like the idea of being ordered around like a scullery maid who'd snuck into the upper chambers of a great house, especially when she didn't want to be here and T'Pau had practically begged her to come. _Begged for a Vulcan, anyway_.

As they left the transport room, Amanda realized the vessel was tiny, at least compared to the _Valley Forge_ and the other transport ships she'd been on before. Aside from the man at the controls, they passed only one other human en route to their temporary rooms, another young man in black coveralls without insignia.

"These people are Starfleet?" she asked T'Pol, staring at him as he breezed by in the cramped corridor.

"In a manner of speaking."

She wanted to ask how service in Starfleet could be done by degrees. The people on the _Valley Forge_ wore bright red, blue, and yellow uniforms, but these people looked like cold automatons who seemed equally likely to shake her hand or stab her, depending on what their orders were.

Amanda was given a private room between T'Pol and T'Pau that was no bigger than a closet. It couldn't have been more than two meters wide by three meters long, judging by the small bed that took up most of the floor space. She supposed it didn't matter – she had packed light and didn't intend to take up permanent residence here.

She was in the middle of unzipping her bag when she heard a chime at the door. She fumbled with the keypad for a moment before it slid open to reveal T'Pol.

"Hi," Amanda sighed.

"I realize this was unexpected."

" _Unexpected_ is putting it mildly. What am I supposed to _do_ , T'Pol, other than show up and be a human presence?"

"May I enter so we can discuss this privately?"

Amanda scooted to the side to allow her inside. "Yeah, sorry I don't have a whole lot of room to sit. Hope the bed's ok."

"My quarters look much the same. They are sufficient to meet my needs."

"I'm not complaining," Amanda sighed. "But I still feel very much in the dark."

"That is why I have come. I sense there is more you wish to know."

"Isn't there more you wish to tell me?"

"I do not know what you wish to know."

Amanda slumped down onto the bed, finding it to be of a firmness approaching that of granite. T'Pol considered the surroundings and placed herself toward the edge, sitting upright. "How long will be we gone?"

"It will take 5.12 standard days to travel there, and Minister T'Pau anticipates a short period of negotiations."

"So that means… what?"

"It is difficult to estimate."

"What happens if Sarek comes home and I'm not there? What if-"

"Councilwoman T'Lona intends to manage the situation."

"Like a _puppeteer_? Why does she need to manage anything? What difference does it make if Sarek knows? I don't need to ask his opinion or permission to do anything, but he's my husband and I trust his judgment, especially if it deals with diplomatic stuff and other Vulcans."

"She wishes to follow Federation protocols," T'Pol explained.

"Which are _what_? Deny everything until it blows up in everyone's faces?"

T'Pol hesitated and explained, "To involve as few people as possible in such a dangerous endeavor."

Amanda scanned T'Pol's dark eyes for some kind of answer but saw nothing in the placid expression staring back at her. "What did I get myself involved in, T'Pol?"

"A very difficult situation, but hopefully one that has – as humans like to say – a happy ending."

"So how do _you_ fit into all of this?"

"Minister T'Pau was assigned to this mission, and she and I are old acquaintances."

" _Really_? How did that come about?"

They seemed like diametric opposites. Where T'Pol seemed accepting and curious of Amanda, T'Pau seemed to have no patience for her. In fact, T'Pau's logic seemed merciless almost to the point of pettiness, not that a Vulcan could _ever_ be petty.

"I presume you are not very familiar with Vulcan history."

Amanda blushed. "No, not really."

"Minister T'Pau was a leader in the Syrrannite movement in the mid-22nd century. We first met when I was sent to apprehend her after she was accused of bombing an embassy."

"People actually thought a _Vulcan_ bombed an embassy?" Amanda laughed.

"Though Vulcans abhor violence, there are times when it is logical to use violence to prevent further suffering or devastation," T'Pol argued. "In the recent past, Vulcans employed violence far more than they do today. The fact that violence has once again become rare among my people is directly attributed to T'Pau."

She knew from reading the _Teachings of Surak_ that Vulcans had been a very violent race in the past but had chosen to overcome that tendency through logic, but the idea that they had been militaristic and aggressive only a generation ago seemed as ridiculous as saying humans could sprout wings and fly at their leisure. "That's really hard to believe. About the violence, I mean. How does T'Pau fit into the narrative?"

"T'Pau and my former captain, a man named Jonathan Archer, were instrumental in recovering the Kir'Shara, an artifact which contained Surak's original writings. The Kir'Shara's discovery led to the Vulcan Reformation and the dissolution of the Vulcan High Command in favor of the Vulcan High Council."

Amanda leaned back against the wall and tried to make sense of it. She had never felt so small and ignorant. There was a reason she chose teaching as a profession and not diplomacy, politics, or intelligence. "Can I ask how it is you know all of this stuff about the Romulans if the official story is that no one has ever laid eyes on one or even spoken to one in more than sixty years?"

"Prior to the war, the Romulan government infiltrated the now-defunct Vulcan High Command, but Vulcans were later able to emplace their own spies within the Empire. Most of them are dead now, but thanks to their service, we have a clear understanding of the political climate during the past six decades."

"You sent people to live and die on Romulus as if they were Romulans? And they just… _volunteered_?"

"There were many volunteers, myself included."

"But- but- how? _What_? What happened?"

"That information is… _classified_."

"You're _joking_ ," Amanda sneered, waving her arms around the room. "Our very existence on this ship is classified."

T'Pol didn't immediately respond and Amanda started to get annoyed, but then something clicked and she remembered the two classified files from the incidents between _Enterprise_ and the Romulans in 2158 and 2159 that she'd been denied access to while working on the universal translator.

"You served on the _Enterprise_ from 2151 to 2164, but what happened with the Romulans in 2158 and 2159?"

"In late 2158, the _Enterprise_ found a disabled Romulan ship near Taugus. Most of the crew were dead and life support was failing, but there were nine Romulans left alive. Romulans will often commit suicide to avoid the shame of capture, but these survivors were found unconscious."

Amanda thought of Llhran and wondered what it had been like for him to be a prisoner aboard his own ship for months while Bentham's men hauled him around the quadrant.

"We treated their injuries and transferred them to a Vulcan transport vessel to deliver them to an internment facility on Vulcan, but the Vulcan Ministry of Security decided to exploit their capture and hastily recruited volunteers to undergo cosmetic surgery and assume their identities."

"What did you do with the Romulans?"

"I believe seven committed suicide in captivity and the other two assimilated into Vulcan society."

"That's…" Amanda didn't know how to describe it. _Awful_? _Sad_? _Unbelievable_? "So why didn't you go?"

"I received some unexpected news on the day I was to depart."

 _Why did T'Pol always make personal conversation more difficult than pulling teeth_? "What kind of news?"

"A… very close friend talked me out of it."

"Must have been some friend to convince you to skip out on moving to Romulus," Amanda joked.

"He was. I was deeply grateful for him."

Amanda closed her eyes and thought of what to ask next, but T'Pol chose to speak first. "I consider you a close friend as well, Amanda."

Her eyes snapped open and examined T'Pol, wondering what might have prompted such a sentimental statement.

"There is more I wish to tell you," T'Pol added.

"I'm still busy trying to process everything else, but sure, go ahead," she said, offering her friend a pained smile.

"Since retirement I have done intermittent work with the Vulcan Ministry of Security. That is part of why I am on this mission now. But you were another mission."

" _Me_? What are you talking about?"

"After the events that transpired on the _Tafv_ , Councilwoman T'Lona feared you would reveal the secret of a common ancestry between the Romulans and Vulcans and started monitoring you shortly after your return to Earth."

" _What_?" Her voice rang through the sparse room, ricocheting off the walls. "You've been _spying_ on me?"

"No. Your former supervisor on the universal translator project was spying on you, but once the councilwoman was convinced you were no longer a threat, she ended surveillance."

Amanda was shaking and wasn't sure whether to blame anger or fear. She started massaging her temples and searching for words that didn't include obscenities. "Did you ever actually want to be my friend or was that all just part of T'Lona's machinations too?"

"When you entered my nursery ten months ago, I knew who you were based on your unusual marriage to the Vulcan ambassador to Earth. You befriended me and I appreciated your company," T'Pol explained. "I related our meeting to Minister T'Pau, with whom I share tea each week. She in turn told Councilwoman T'Lona. Several weeks earlier, Llhran's resistance movement had sent a missive to the Federation Council, and shortly thereafter, it became clear Llhran wanted you to be party to the negotiations. The Councilwoman attempted to change his mind, but tasked me with training you for this mission in the event he could not be swayed."

"So the card games, the debates, the conversation… you've been training me like a _pet_?"

"I was attempting to teach you-"

"You said _training_. _Training_! Like I'm some kind of lower life form who would be too stupid to understand social and political complexities. What is _wrong_ with you?"

"The councilwoman believed-"

"I don't care what T'Lona _believed_ ," Amanda seethed. "I thought you were my friend."

T'Pol managed to utter a single syllable before Amanda added, "Please just go."

She did without further comment. Amanda sunk down on the stiff mattress and felt ridiculous tears pricking the corners of her eyes. Everything was a lie. T'Pol had become her friend only for T'Lona's benefit and Tolek had offered her a job just to spy on her. And _Sarek_ … An angry knot twisted in her stomach. Had he married her just to keep tabs on her too?

That didn't seem possible – they had such a close connection. Her body still ached from two straight days of sex. She'd gone through all those awful fertility treatments. She _loved_ him and he loved her… _didn't he_? It was moments like this when she wished she had his logical mind, but her human emotions refused let go of the vast sense of betrayal threatening to consume her. She cried herself to sleep wondering how much of the last three years of her life had been real and why she had agreed to come on this stupid mission in the first place.

Worst of all, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was embarking on something that was so much bigger than herself. All she wanted was to go home, but she couldn't be certain if she knew where that was anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I owe such a huge debt of gratitude to Masao Okazaki and the [Starfleet Museum](http://www.starfleet-museum.org) for helping me weave together a history of the post-war Romulan Star Empire. A lot of this isn't canon per se, but I'm bad enough with real history as it is, and so the thought of inventing a whole bunch of it was really daunting.


	15. Lessons, Logic, and Lost Friends

**February 2229**

The soft chirp of his PADD interrupted his ruminations. Rather than ignore the distraction, he rose to his feet to check the device. He hadn't heard from Amanda since he'd left Vulcan six days ago despite thirteen attempts to contact her.

Sarek eyed the screen – another missive from Councilwoman T'Lona.

He'd sent his report that morning detailing the simple negotiations between the Rigelians and the Coridan trade agreement partners. Sarek had done very little aside from formally direct and document the discussions, and now his assignment was complete. He informed the councilwoman of his intent to return to Vulcan later that evening, but now she was requesting his presence on Earth as a representative of the astrophysics advisory board to attend a panel at Starfleet Academy.

This was unusual. It was a slight breach of protocol for such a senior politician to address a more junior diplomat directly, but this was the second errand this month on which she'd personally sent him. It would have been more appropriate to send orders through an intermediate such as a private secretary or the Diplomatic Corps.

He acknowledged her request and messaged Varen, the consular secretary on Earth, to arrange his travel. Though it was illogical, he also checked his inbox for any written messages from his wife. _There were none_.

Generalized worry was irrational, but he had sufficient cause to be concerned for her wellbeing. Due to the nature of his work they often went long periods without speaking, but she had never ignored him when he'd contacted her. Furthermore, their telepathic mating bond was quite strong and even when he traveled off world, he still retained a vague sense her presence. Yet Amanda was slowly fading from his consciousness. He might have blamed geographic distance or the length of time they'd spent apart, but Babel was closer to Vulcan than Coridan, and he'd spent nearly three months on Coridan and never experienced this phenomenon.

He analyzed the situation logically. He could leave Babel and travel directly to Vulcan to look in on her and still arrive on Earth in time for the panel, but it would take nineteen hours to reach his home planet. The most logical course of action would be to dispatch someone already on Vulcan to investigate the matter of his mate's unusual silence. He drafted a request to the estate's part time caretaker, asking him to check the property and speak with Amanda before he began packing his belongings in preparation for his travel to Earth.

Five minutes later he received an acknowledgment from the caretaker, promising to visit the property within the hour. Sarek thanked him and returned to inventorying his possessions. There was nothing more he could do. It would be illogical to continue to worry.

* * *

" _Focus_ ," T'Pau insisted.

If Amanda didn't know better, she would swear there was a hint of annoyance in security minister's voice. "I'm trying, but my brain is in overload right now."

"You lack discipline," T'Pau intoned.

"I _know_."

T'Pau's face remained smooth in response to Amanda's petulant admission, but she turned her back to her human pupil and traced her spindly fingers across the small conference room's planning board. After five days of tutelage under T'Pau, Amanda's mind felt like a sweater with a loose thread that had been pulled for so long that all that remained was a pile of yarn.

No one could ever accuse Minister T'Pau of lacking in the logic department. Her logic _consumed_ her. It was as though she had no room left in her tiny heart for anything resembling a personality or empathy. Amanda knew she was being unfair, but she was tired and her heart was heavy.

She still wasn't ready to completely forgive T'Pol for using their friendship to help T'Lona achieve her political ends. As much as she disliked T'Pau, at least T'Pau had never dared suggest she and Amanda were chummy with one another. She'd had nearly a week to stew in her self-doubt and self-pity and eventually had calmed down and come to several rational conclusions. T'Pol probably really wanted to be her friend and was just doing what she thought was right by protecting Federation secrets, Sarek almost certainly loved her and hadn't married her to spy on her, and T'Pau was _mean_.

" _Amanda_?"

She snapped out of her daydream. "Yes?"

"Describe the composition of the Continuing Committee," T'Pau repeated.

Amanda's mind retched as she summoned information from yesterday's lesson. Or was it the day before yesterday? Everything blurred together. "It's made up of the Praetor, the Proconsul, the Vice Proconsul, the head of the Tal Shiar, and the senior consuls of each political coalition."

"Incorrect."

"Which part?" Amanda groaned.

" _Think_."

She gritted her teeth and shot mind bullets at the Vulcan woman pacing at the head of the room. Amanda closed her eyes and pondered the question again. This was a disaster, nothing more than a pointless waste of effort.

She wasn't even supposed to be involved in the negotiations – T'Pau insisted on being the one to speak. Yet she still insisted on giving Amanda a brutal crash course in Romulan government, military, philosophy, history, and culture. This information would have been _priceless_ during her work on the universal translator. She'd learned more about the Romulan language in the past few days than she had in years of study.

For example, the universal translator described mnhei'sahe as "honorable passion," but it was so much _more_ than that. It was the singular word that embodied all of Romulan culture and was central to their strict code of behavior. It was an abstract measure of an individual's personal honor and to lose it was a fate worse than death. According to T'Pau's briefs, executions of entire households had occurred to restore and satisfy mnhei'sahe.

"You are losing focus again," T'Pau noted.

Amanda sighed. "And three military officers."

"Explain."

"The Continuing Committee is made up of the Praetor, the Proconsul, the Vice Proconsul, the head of the Tal Shiar, the senior coalition consuls, and three senior military officers."

"Correct. What is the role of the Praetor?"

The woman didn't skip a beat. Drill after drill, all day long. Amanda had no idea how Vulcans could learn this way: hours of lectures followed by hours of interrogation. Amanda had asked to take notes but T'Pau denied the request, insisting it would be a violation of protocols. She'd tried explaining she retained things better when she could write them down, and all that had earned her was a lecture from T'Pau in which the security minister took cheap shots at the human education system.

"The Praetor is the leader of the Empire."

"An obvious assertion. Expound."

"The Praetor commands the military and the Praetorian guard, interprets and enforces laws… um…"

" _Um_ is not a word."

"Yes, I'm aware. It's a filler."

"A filler?"

"A sound or word spoken in conversation to signal to listeners that the speaker is taking a pause to think without giving the impression he or she has finished speaking."

Her words were flat and hostile, but Amanda no longer cared. T'Pau was intimidating, but the past few days had led Amanda to believe she was little more than a bully. She remembered being terrified of Sarek the first time she spoke to him at the aquarium three years ago and realized only now just how silly she'd been. Sarek was open-minded and curious, logical and _kind_.

Most people – including herself once upon a time – seemed to assume Vulcans were all alike, but this woman was nothing like her husband and was worlds apart from T'Pol. Why couldn't Vulcans admit they could be just as prideful, biased, deceitful, arrogant, and mean as any other species in the quadrant?

T'Pau took a seat at the opposite end of the conference table and folded her hands neatly on the table. "Who controls the appropriation of the Empire's resources?"

"The Senate."

"And what other functions do the Senate serve?"

Amanda sighed. "Practically everything."

"You speak hyperbolically."

"They make all the laws, elect the Praetor, declare war, levy taxes, try high crimes…" Amanda wanted to add something completely ridiculous like "Senate-ize" but didn't feel like locking horns with T'Pau or further proving her belief that humans were lazy and childish.

T'Pau's face remained frozen. "Describe D'era."

 _D'era_ – another word that Amanda had translated terribly during her work on Project Rosetta. "D'era is the destiny of the Romulan people to spread out and conquer the stars."

"And how did the Romulan perception of D'era change following the Earth-Romulan War?"

"I have a question."

"So have I," T'Pau remarked. "I have asked it, and you have yet to answer it."

"When we get there, do you really think Llhran is going to ask me to spout off military rank structure or debate Romulan philosophy?" Amanda bristled.

"The object of these lessons is to ensure you are well-informed," T'Pau replied. "We are to meet with his contingent in 12.19 hours and it is evident you know nothing of the Romulan people."

" _No one_ knows anything about the Romulan people," Amanda retorted. "And that's your fault, and Councilwoman T'Lona's fault, and the fault of everyone keeping quiet about the Romulans. Didn't it ever occur to you that if you just told the truth to the public that it might be easier? People are afraid of things they don't understand and you're keeping them ignorant just because you don't want to feel ashamed that you're distantly related to these people. Doesn't seem very _logical_."

Amanda's hands began to shake and her cheeks grew hot, but after days of tiny insults and occasional backhanded compliments, she was at the end of her rope.

"May I point out that _you_ have known about the connection between Romulans and Vulcans for thirty-three months and have said nothing."

"And you're welcome for that, by the way," Amanda snapped.

A sudden calmness came over T'Pau's face and she paused several seconds before speaking again. "Vulcan thanks you for your silence. Should this diplomatic mission go well, the need for secrecy would be at an end."

"But what about the Federation? Do _they_ thank me for my silence?"

T'Pau said nothing.

"Look, I know you remember life before the Federation," Amanda explained. "But I _don't_. I feel the same loyalty for the Federation as I do my own home planet, but I'm not sure that's true for you."

T'Pau's eyes narrowed and Amanda held her breath, sensing she'd gone too far. "Why did you agree to come on this mission?"

"Because I thought I could trust you and T'Pol," Amanda admitted. "But I can't help but wonder if my trust was misplaced."

"What does logic tell you?"

Amanda scoffed, twisting her mouth into a wry smile. "It feels very hard to wrap my mind around this situation with logic. My gut tells me neither of you has designs on treason or murder, but I also know I can sometimes be naïve."

"Recognition of shortcomings is the key to mastering the self," T'Pau replied.

There was something bordering on friendly in the woman's snippet of wisdom and Amanda began to feel very ashamed for giving her such a hard time. She made eye contact and searched her golden eyes for any sign of warmth and found nothing but stoic coldness.

"I've asked a hundred times, but since we'll be there in half a day, could you maybe tell me a little bit more about where we're going and what we're going to do when we get there? You know, more specifically than 'we're going to the Romulan Neutral Zone to talk to some Romulans?'"

"You have asked directly on sixteen separate occasions and alluded to it on nineteen others," T'Pau corrected.

"It doesn't change the fact that I still want to know," Amanda sighed.

"Are there any sites within the Romulan Neutral Zone that have significant meaning to you?"

"No."

"Then why should the name matter?"

"You're right: the _name_ doesn't matter, but your willingness to tell me does," Amanda explained. "I don't feel like I should trust you and you haven't given me much reason to."

"And you believe the name of our intended destination would forge a foundation of trust between us?"

Amanda rubbed her hands over her face. Talking to this woman was like arguing with a cat, only less productive. "What do _you_ think?"

T'Pau bobbed her head and continued to study Amanda. "We are going to Acerrae – a former imperial colony within the Neutral Zone."

She was twice surprised. She was astonished that she'd managed to wear down T'Pau enough to get a name out of her, but _Acerrae_ … There was something familiar about that word. She closed her eyes and reflected on it. It was a word that loosely translated as "failure."

"Why there?"

"It was a site of their choosing," T'Pau replied. "It is closer to their contested border with the Klingon Empire than I would prefer."

"Why would they want to meet _there_?" she asked in alarm. Romulans were bad enough without throwing Klingons into the mix.

" _Think_."

"I'm not a military or political strategist," Amanda groaned. "You've tried really hard the past few days, but I'm not cut out for this stuff. Can't you just tell me?"

A muscle in T'Pau's brow started to twitch and Amanda stared at it in mild horror. T'Pau either didn't notice or didn't care. "Consider what you know."

After five days of forced lessons, Amanda doubted if she knew anything at all anymore. Why did T'Pau insist on making everything a teachable moment? She closed her eyes and allowed the information to swill around in her mind. "The Romulan Empire is on the brink of a civil war, and also facing a war with the Klingons."

"And?"

"You also said the Romulans see the Klingons as a bigger threat than the Federation – it's why they're negotiating with us in the first place."

"We are not negotiating with the Empire," T'Pau corrected. "We are negotiating with the leaders of a potential imperial coups who desire the ultimate reunification of the Romulan and Vulcan peoples."

"So…"

T'Pau's eyes narrowed. "And so the leaders of this coups have selected a site on the outskirts of the Empire to avoid detection. They are not ready to risk outright civil war at this stage."

"So these people are less afraid of the Klingons than they are of their own government?"

"Precisely."

"Do you think the Klingons will interfere with the negotiations?" Amanda asked.

"It is possible," T'Pau admitted. "Which was the primary reason for this mission's secrecy. I have served Vulcan and the Federation in security matters for much of my life, and in that time I have learned a great deal about the reaches of both Romulan and Klingon intelligence. The Klingons are nearly as mistrustful of other species as the Romulans but not nearly as tactical with their politics. They live and die by honor alone. Were they to discover we were negotiating with the Romulans-"

"They would shoot first and ask questions later," Amanda finished.

"One of several rudimentary conclusions, but a possibility," T'Pau replied. "As I'm sure you already know, tensions with the Klingons are escalating. They have made several incursions into Federation space in the past decade."

"So it sounds like we view the Klingons as a bigger threat too." Her eyes flicked in T'Pau's direction; the woman remained motionless. Amanda stood and stretched her aching muscles.

"I wish to gather some information from you," T'Pau said, her voice uncharacteristically quiet.

Amanda took her seat and tried not to look as shocked as she felt. "Um… _ok_."

"Tell me about Llhran."

"I don't really have much to tell you," Amanda admitted. "I'm sure Sarek's – _Ambassador_ Sarek's – report found its way to your office."

"It did," she agreed. "But I would appreciate any additional insight you could provide."

Amanda was floored again. Minister T'Pau, the woman who'd spent the past several days making Amanda feel about as intelligent as a brick, wanted _her_ help.

"Well…" she murmured, sifting through her memories. She'd thought of the Romulan commander occasionally over the past few years. After their escape from the _Tafv_ , she didn't know whether or not he'd survived since they'd taken separate escape pods. She had been scared of Llhran, but he'd been just as apprehensive of her and Sarek.

"I only spent a short time with him and it wasn't exactly under the best circumstances. Bentham's people had held him prisoner on his own ship and he was starving and covered in his own filth. We had a lot of problems with a language barrier. And it's weird, he seemed confused that Sarek didn't speak Romulan, so I got the sense Romulans didn't know they shared a common ancestry with Vulcans either. I guess they probably do _now_. Anyway, when I first met him, he'd escaped from his cell and was pointing a phaser at Ambassador Sarek and myself."

"Yet you gained his trust."

"It was a bad situation all around. We probably gained his trust as much as he gained ours. I think we were just two parties with a mutual goal. In the beginning, he even told me that we weren't friends, but were only temporary allies."

"Ambassador Sarek's report described your negotiations with Llhran and explained that you parted on peaceful terms."

Amanda nodded. "I thought he was going to kill us for what Bentham's people did to him and his crew. Sarek mentioned it might be logical to kill him first, which really surprised me at the time, since I thought Vulcans hated violence."

"Violence should always be considered as a last resort, but Ambassador Sarek's logic was sound," T'Pau replied. "Llhran's death would have been regrettable, but it likely would have prevented a war."

"But we let him live and not only was there no war, but we're meeting with him to negotiate peace between Romulans and Vulcans," Amanda countered.

"The benefit of retrospection does not invalidate the logic of the decision in the moment."

"True, but I think it does prove there are limits to logic."

"Logic has many limitations," T'Pau replied. "What else do you know of Llhran?"

"That's pretty much it. Anything else would be my irrational human intuition talking."

"There is no illogic in merely providing your opinion."

Amanda tried to keep from rolling her eyes. Vulcans were so annoyingly quick to deem anything illogical but would participate in it nonetheless.

"I think he was a good person raised in a hard society. In the end he could have chosen to kill us out of revenge or personal honor or loyalty to the Romulan Star Empire, but he didn't. He was understandably angry at first and thought we were with the people who'd captured and tortured him and his crew, but he was willing to listen to reason. There were a lot of tense moments but we got through them and got out of a bad situation alive. You've spent days telling me about the mistrustful and duplicitous nature of Romulans, but I didn't see that in him."

"I see."

"Anyway, like I said, it's just my illogical opinion."

"Thank you for your information."

Before T'Pau could turn the conversation to a new topic, Amanda added, "You know, when you told me he was alive and had asked for me specifically, I was both surprised and relieved. I've spent the past few years wondering what happened to him."

"He is fortunate to be alive," T'Pau replied. "Our intelligence reports that he was retrieved from a small planetoid and taken to a penal colony to stand trial for dishonoring himself and the Empire."

"They killed his family, didn't they?" Amanda choked, thinking about her lessons on the Romulan concept of mnhei'sahe. Whether or not the Romulans knew the whole story, Llhran was the captain of a Romulan warship who lost his vessel and crew. Mnhei'sahe would have demanded the execution of his entire household to restore the honor to the Romulan Star Empire.

"Yes. But he escaped on the day of his scheduled execution with the help of sympathetic members of the Praetorian Guard and has spent the last two years recruiting the Romulan people to his cause. Many rebellions fail because they are unable to gain the necessary momentum, but what Llhran has accomplished in so short a time is remarkable and indicates many Romulans are dissatisfied with their government and way of life. To members of the reunification movement, Llhran is viewed as a hero, a martyr, and an instrument of change."

Amanda wasn't sure what to say. They sat together in silence for nearly a minute while she reflected on her sadness for Llhran.

"What happened to Riov Llhran was regrettable," T'Pau finally remarked.

Amanda thought she was on the verge of connecting with the severe woman and felt compelled to say something when T'Pau said, "Now, how did the Romulan perception of D'era change following the Earth-Romulan War?"

And just like that, their shared moment was over. Two hours later, T'Pau released her from her lessons to rest before their arrival at Acerrae. Amanda still wasn't sure what she was supposed to do, but T'Pau had instructed her to make introductions and then remain silent unless Llhran spoke directly to her, and even then she was supposed to defer to T'Pau.

She shuffled down the narrow corridor to her closet room feeling numb, tired, and disillusioned. As she reached her quarters, she saw T'Pol exiting the room next door and felt a blast of anxiety. She hadn't seen her friend since her admission several days earlier. She got the sense T'Pol had been avoiding her, but Amanda hadn't exactly been looking for T'Pol either.

"Hi," Amanda mumbled.

"Hello."

"Um, how are you?"

"Adequate."

" _Adequate_ ," Amanda mumbled under her breath. " _Um_ …"

She hesitated. She didn't want to apologize for being lied to, but she wanted to work on putting it in the past. If there was ever a time she needed a friend, she couldn't think of a better occasion than hurtling toward the Romulan Neutral Zone at seven times the speed of light. T'Pol gazed patiently at her and Amanda mumbled, "What are you up to?"

"I planned to take an evening meal and then rest before our arrival."

"Mind if I join you?" Amanda asked, suddenly feeling hungry at the thought of food.

T'Pol considered her, bowed her head slightly, and moved alongside Amanda. They turned and walked the short distance to the mess deck together. The small ship had no formal galley but did have a tiny room with two food replicators and several small tables.

When they entered, they found two of the crew, clad in their blank faces and black jumpsuits shoveling some kind of rice dish into their mouths with impressive speed. Amanda greeted them with a warm smile but all she got in return was two curt nods and a quiet, "Ma'am." When it became evident she and T'Pol planned on dining, they stood and put their half-full bowls into the matter reclaimator and exited the room.

She wasn't sure if they were rude or following some kind of protocol, but she had a hard time believing these people were in Starfleet. She replicated a bowl of vegetarian stir-fry and slid into one of the small, hard chairs across from T'Pol.

"How are your lessons progressing with Minister T'Pau?"

"Could be better, could be worse," Amanda admitted, grateful to start the conversation off slowly. "She's very… _exacting_."

"She is ruthless in her application of logic, but she has been an invaluable friend and mentor to me, as well as a vital part of the Vulcan Reformation and an agent of the Federation at large," T'Pol replied.

She held her tongue. That might be true, but it didn't mean T'Pau was a kind person. Amanda supposed T'Pau viewed her friendships as merely more than logical political connections.

"I wanted to tell you… I just want to say I understand," Amanda said, taking a large bite of food.

"I presume you refer to our last discussion."

She swallowed hard and nodded. "I'm still not sure what to think about it all, but I can see why you thought you had to keep the truth from me."

"It was not a matter of what I _thought_ ," she replied. "It was a matter of what I was ordered to do."

Amanda stared down at her food. "Can I ask- did you ever really want to be my friend, or was most of it just because you were _ordered_ to?"

"Your company is enjoyable, and I agreed to be friends before this matter arose."

T'Pol had just confirmed everything Amanda had been struggling with for nearly a week. To T'Pol, it was nothing personal, it was just business, and that business was a matter of protecting the Federation.

"I told you the truth against T'Pau's advice because it was no longer necessary to withhold it from you," T'Pol continued. "I did not ever believe it was necessary to withhold it from you."

Her voice was quiet, leaving Amanda to wonder if she was actually experiencing guilt. "What will happen when all this is over?"

"It violates security protocols to discuss the mission in common areas."

"I wasn't talking about the mission, though I'm curious about that too," Amanda replied. "What I meant was, will we still be friends?"

"Do you wish to retain our friendship?" T'Pol's voice cracked and Amanda wanted to dismiss it as the result of age, but if she were human, she would have thought T'Pol was getting choked up.

"You're the only friend I really have anymore," Amanda answered. "And I thought you were a really good one. I still _do_ , I guess, even though you spent the past several months training me like a semi-intelligent lower life form without my knowledge."

Saying it out loud almost made it funny; Amanda gritted her teeth to keep from laughing but couldn't hide the smile. T'Pol shot her a curious look and Amanda shook her head. "It might take me a while to fully trust you again, but you've been one of the best friends I've ever had at a time in my life when I really needed a friend. The Vulcan way of life… I don't know."

"The Vulcan way is not easy," T'Pol admitted. "But it is logical. It is a better way."

"Maybe to _you_ ," Amanda scowled.

T'Pol's face went blank and then Amanda caught sight of a subtle smile forming at the corners of her mouth. There was no mistaking it. It took her several seconds to realize she was staring. "Are you ok?"

The restrained expression faded from T'Pol's face. "You remind me of someone I knew many years ago."

"Care to share?"

"Another time perhaps," said T'Pol, rising to her feet with her now empty soup bowl in hand. "For now I wish to meditate and rest prior to our arrival. I recommend you do the same."

They walked back to their neighboring rooms in silence, but just before she retreated into her tiny room, Amanda stopped and said, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Being my friend. Being honest with me, _eventually_ ," she muttered. "I hope we can talk more when this is all over."

"I look forward to it," T'Pol replied.

She nodded and slipped into her quarters without another word. She could use a shower, but she could also use some sleep. Her mind was weary from T'Pau's prodding and instructional methods, and though she felt better after talking to T'Pol, her heart still felt heavy.

She sat down on the bed and closed her eyes and the next thing she knew, her door was buzzing. She slinked off the bed's edge to answer it and was greeted by T'Pau's unimpressed face telling her she had ten minutes to prepare herself to transport down to the surface of Acerrae.

Her heart started to pump frantically but she did her best to maintain her outward composure. She quickly changed into subdued clothing – black pants, boots, and a loose gray shirt at T'Pol's recommendation – and pulled her dirty hair back into a low ponytail. She should have showered.

She was visibly shaking by the time she arrived in the small transporter room and took her position next to T'Pol while T'Pau spoke with the ship's captain. The gravity of the situation hadn't fully sunk in until that moment: she was getting ready to meet a man who once threatened to kill her. They were far outside the safety of Federation space and if anything went wrong, she doubted the people back home would get the true version of events. Sarek, her mother, and everyone she'd ever known would probably just be told she died in a shuttle accident or something equally bland and life would go on without her.

The panic began to swell and thoughts of Sarek swept through her mind. Where was he? How was he doing? It occurred to her that she didn't know, and she suddenly realized that when she opened her consciousness that she couldn't properly sense him through their bond anymore. _Why_? Was he ok?

"Try to remain calm," T'Pol said quietly without looking at her.

She took several deep breaths and tried to clear her mind. It was what Sarek would do. It was what T'Pol would do. But Sarek and T'Pol were Vulcans. It was so much easier said than done, but hadn't that been what T'Pol said just hours ago? The Vulcan way isn't easy, but it is the better way?

T'Pau turned to address them. "The Romulan contingent is already on the surface."

"I presume the crew will maintain a transporter lock," T'Pol replied, glancing past T'Pau to the human transport operator.

"Yes," T'Pau replied, taking a position on the circular spot in front of Amanda.

"Standby," the operator called, working his fingers along a series of manual toggles.

T'Pau looked over her shoulder at Amanda and said, "Do not forget what we discussed. Good luck."

 _Good luck_? She gawked at the woman; she would be less shocked if T'Pau had just uttered a string of swear words and racial epithets. Before she could formulate a response, the technician shouted, " _energizing_ " and she was bathed in a rush of warm energy.

Then she was cold. She took a half step forward and heard the crunch of rocks underfoot. It was nearly twilight on this remote and barren planet, but through the fading light she saw five tall figures in dark clothing standing about twenty meters ahead. The panic surged again, but T'Pau stalked forward and as if on instinct, Amanda followed.

"Introduce me to Llhran, not Llhran to me," T'Pau reminded softly.

" _Sure_ ," Amanda croaked, noting the foggy mist that accompanied her breath.

As they approached the imposing Romulan figures, the hairs on the back of Amanda's neck stood on end. They weren't moving. _Why_?

When she was close enough to see their faces, the panic threatened to boil over. Her eyes jumped from face to face, struggling to recall Llhran's features. Something was wrong. Llhran had been frightfully thin back then with a shaggy beard, but she was quite certain none of these men were the former captain of the _Tafv_.

"Make the introduction," T'Pau hissed under her breath, coming to a stop three meters away from the man at the front of the group.

All five sets of Romulan eyes were trained on Amanda and their posture started to visibly stiffen. They clearly weren't expecting a human presence. Something was _very_ wrong.


	16. A Last Request

**February 2229**

Sarek terminated the communications link to the Vulcan police and initiated a new one to his secretary on Earth, asking him to arrange for his immediate travel back to Vulcan. He did quick calculations in his head. Even under the most ideal set of conditions, he would not arrive on Vulcan for another nineteen hours.

He closed his eyes and suppressed a flicker of worry. It had been more than a week since the resolution of his pon farr and though his logical faculties had been mostly restored, it would take several more weeks of meditation to return his mind to its most optimal level of function.

He took a deep breath and compelled himself to analyze the current situation logically. Amanda was missing. The circumstances were unusual. Certain details of her disappearance could not be explained rationally.

Twelve hours ago, the estate's caretaker had visited his home and reported that Amanda was not there. The shuttlecar was still parked in the garage, the cat, sehlat, and garden were evidently being cared for, and Amanda's PADD was sitting on the front entry table collecting a fine layer of dust.

Sarek located contact information for T'Pol and attempted to reach her to ask if she'd seen Amanda, but he never received a reply. Soon after, he contacted the Vulcan authorities who immediately performed several scans of the area surrounding his home and found no human biosigns, living or deceased. He spoke with T'Rea, thinking perhaps she'd gone to Gol to visit Sybok but T'Rea hadn't seen Amanda since she'd returned the boy to his mother several months earlier.

The police expanded the search radius to include the whole of Vulcan and located 168 human biosigns. It took them several hours to identify those individuals and confirm none of them were his mate. They checked all outbound passenger manifests on civilian and Starfleet transports and quickly confirmed she hadn't left the planet in the past seven days, at least not by any obvious modes of transport. This left only two logical conclusions. Amanda wasn't on Vulcan and hadn't left it by any official means of travel.

To rule out the possibility of logistical error or some overlooked form of travel, Sarek submitted a request to the authorities on Earth to contact her friends and relations there. So far he'd received no response. He did not welcome the inevitable conversation with Amanda's mother, Jana Grayson, when she discovered her daughter was missing. Amanda was not close to her mother, but he knew Jana loved Amanda with an illogical amount of overbearing intensity.

Sarek reflected on the implications of the facts and considered one other piece of information. He could not sense Amanda's consciousness. It was as though she'd simply disappeared. The most logical conclusions were that she was either a very great distance away, incapacitated, or dead. He closed his eyes and focused on purging the slow creep of emotions pooling into his psyche.  _Where was Amanda_?

When he stepped off the transport two hours later onto the shuttle pad in San Francisco, he immediately searched for Secretary Varen who would take him to a second transport departing for Vulcan within the hour. Because he was not anticipating to see her there, it took his mind a fraction of a second longer to process the image of the person who'd come to greet him.

"Councilwoman T'Lona, to what do I owe this honor?" He didn't render the ta'al, but folded his hands behind his back. She seemed unfazed by the minor insult.

"I must speak with you," she replied.

"I do not have much time, as I am bound to depart for Vulcan in forty-seven minutes," he explained, walking past her.

"Ambassador Sarek," she called. "I believe you will want to hear what I have to say."

He paused, turned on his heel, and came face to face with the elderly woman. "Does it concern my wife?"

"It does."

"Explain."

"I cannot. Not here."

"Where then?"

"If you follow me, I have a vehicle waiting to take us to Federation Headquarters."

He studied her carefully, allowing his mind to consider the logical possibilities. He followed her to a long, black shuttlecar waiting near the curb, and once safely tucked in the back with her, he asked, "Where is my mate?"

The councilwoman hesitated before replying, "There has been an incident."

* * *

"Amanda," T'Pol breathed. "Introduce us."

"I  _can't_ ," she muttered under her breath. "Llhran isn't here."

No one spoke, but she could see T'Pau's posture shift from the corner of her eye. Amanda kept looking at the Romulans and hoping she was wrong. Three of them had unusual ridges trailing up from their brows to their hairlines and Amanda wondered if it was some kind of birth defect or evolutionary divergence. Llhran's forehead had been smooth though; on that she was positive.

The other two had smoother foreheads just like every Vulcan she'd ever met, but they didn't resemble Llhran. The one in the front looked close but he seemed too tall and his face was too round. She was fairly certain – Llhran wasn't there.

"Where is Llhran?" T'Pau asked in Vuhlkansu. Her clipped accent was interrupted by a rippling audio projection from a universal translator that converted her words into Romulan.

"I am Lhas," said the man at the head of the group.

Amanda blinked and stared at T'Pau. The woman's face didn't flinch. "You failed to answer my query."

"Llhran is nearby," said Lhas, his cool demeanor refusing to betray any emotion.

"We came to speak with Llhran," T'Pau insisted. "I am not interested in speaking with you."

"Lay down your weapons," Lhas said, taking a step forward.

"We carry no weapons," T'Pol said, inching closer to T'Pau who added, "As per the prearranged terms of this meeting. I trust you have also complied."

Lhas squinted at the small party, observing each in turn until his eyes came to rest on Amanda. Amanda tried to remain calm but felt like an animal awaiting slaughter. " _You are A'man-da_."

" _Yes_ ," Amanda replied in Romulan, grateful for the existence of such a short word to conceal any waver in her voice. She was no longer nervous of T'Pau's judgment for speaking out of turn, at least not compared to the terror this man elicited in her.

His eyes flashed at her brief use of his native tongue. "My brother says you are a trustworthy individual."

She studied the features of his face closely. There  _was_  a resemblance.  _Maybe_. It had been three years and she often struggled to tell Vulcans apart. She started to feel a lot less sure of her memories of the former Romulan captain.

"We have come to negotiate directly with Llhran," T'Pau purred. "If you are unwilling to produce him, then we have nothing to discuss."

"You have not introduced yourself," barked another man from behind Lhas.

"I am not the only person guilty of that offense," T'Pau retorted, staring at the other four Romulans in turn. "I am T'Pau, this is T'Pol, and as you have correctly presumed, this is Amanda."

The combative man scowled and replied. "I am Ruanek."

"And these men are Velal, Khaiell, and Khoal," Lhas added, gesturing to each of the men behind him in turn.

"Why has  _she_  come?" Ruanek asked, pointing his index finger at T'Pol.

"Llhran has also sent a large contingent, and yet he himself has not come," T'Pau rejoined, her voice strong and firm.

Lhas cocked his head and glared at T'Pau. "I do not share my brother's trust of Vulcans."

"Then he has selected an unusual envoy," T'Pau replied.

Lhas raised an eyebrow and shrugged. Despite the tension, Amanda found herself resisting an inappropriate smile. The lackadaisical expression seemed strangely funny because Lhas looked so Vulcan. Romulans even cropped their hair in a style similar to their Vulcan cousins, which only made the distrust that much more perplexing.

The moment of humor passed when T'Pau declared, "If you are unwilling to produce Llhran, we shall not take up any more of your time."

She turned to T'Pol but Lhas held up his hand. He pulled a small, black device from a pocket on his thigh and spoke quiet words into it. Seconds later, a dull, unusual light ripped through the cold darkness several meters behind the Romulans, leaving a single figure in its wake.

Amanda's eyes strained in the fading light to examine the new arrival behind the small band of Romulans. She noticed just how cold she really was. She started to ball her hands into fists to warm her fingers but thought the motion might look aggressive so she remained still, locked in anxiety and anticipation.

"Jolan'tru, Amanda."

She exhaled in surprise, releasing a stream of vapor to momentarily cling to the chilly air. "Jolan'tru, Llhran."

" _It has been many months since I saw you last_." He delivered the Romulan words with a breathy accent and a stony face.

" _You look well_ ," Amanda replied in his native language. And he  _did_. He'd been a half-starved, stinking shell of a creature when she last saw him aboard the  _Tafv_ , but the man standing before her now was lean and muscular with a clean-shaven face and immaculately trimmed haircut.

" _As do you_."

Amanda gave him a small smile and could feel T'Pau glaring at her. She didn't care. " _I am sorry for what has happened to you and your family_."

A small look of surprise rushed across his face and just as quickly disappeared. " _Your Romulan is much improved_."

" _I still make many mistakes_ ," she admitted.

He smiled at her and nodded. " _So do we all_."

"Amanda," T'Pau whispered in a flat tone.

She turned her head to stare at the Vulcan woman, noting the unusual intensity in her eyes seemed to have increased tenfold. " _Minister T'Pau, this is Llhran, Llhran, this is Minister T'Pau and T'Pol._ "

"Jolan'tru, Llhran," T'Pau murmured. T'Pol said nothing.

His critical eyes scanned the length of the short-statured Vulcan woman several times. " _So you are here to speak on behalf of your Federation_."

"As much as you are here to speak on behalf of the Romulan Star Empire," T'Pau replied coolly, pausing for the portable universal translator to catch up to her words.

"Necessity makes strange allies," Llhran mused.

"I was under the impression you asked us here to seek reunification between our peoples, not merely a temporary non-aggression pact," T'Pau replied.

"What do you seek to regain from reunification?" Llhran asked.

"Peace."

"A vague and noble goal," Llhran mocked.

"I wish for an eventual open peace between the Empire and the Federation, and I believe it can be made possible by beginning with the free exchange of ideas between our people. Romulans-"

"Have existed apart from Vulcans for more than 2,000 years," Llhran interrupted. "Depending on the historical theory you subscribe to."

"Had you allowed me to finish, I would have said something similar," T'Pau replied. "I am not certain Romulus and Vulcan will ever be as one again, but it does not mean there cannot be mutual understanding."

"Did you know there are many Romulans who still deny any shared ancestry with Vulcans?"

"Yes," T'Pau answered.

"I know you are aware because you have spies on Romulus."

"And can you claim Romulus is blameless of intelligence activities within the Federation?"

"No," he admitted candidly.

"What is it  _you_  wish to achieve, Llhran?"

"A return to the old ways. And destruction of my enemies."

"How do the old ways differ from the new ways?" T'Pau asked.

Llhran sighed. "Romulans have always been a proud yet wary people, but we were not always killers and conquerors obsessed with power and order. Honor was once honorable but now it is reduced to killing rivals before they kill you. The Emperor's policy of D'era threatens our people from without while arrogance and greed corrode it from within. We face total war with the Klingons, yet the Senate continues to swallow itself like a starving snake, assassinating one member after the next. These are not our ways."

"If political conflict is your primary concern, your coups is illogical, as it represents further division," T'Pau argued.

"The Empire is weak and failing and has been for decades," Llhran argued. "If there is to be change, it must be now while the people can still sense weakness in their government. Every day more people join our cause."

"And you alone speak for them?" T'Pol asked, startling Amanda who had nearly forgotten she was there.

"The people love my brother," Lhas spat. "They would follow him into the path of a dying star."

"Unyielding devotion is often more dangerous than discord," T'Pau retorted. Lhas scowled and exchanged looks with Llhran.

"You mentioned the destruction of your enemies," T'Pol continued. "What are Vulcan and the Federation to you?"

"No one," he admitted. "Many Romulans believe the Federation to be nothing more than an anti-Romulan alliance. It is what the senators and praetors and empress herself preach. But only a fool would believe that a large, allied force with military superiority would delay an invasion for more than sixty years."

He looked at Amanda who gave him a weak smile. The muscles of her face felt sluggish in the cold air. A flurry of beeping and chirping noises started to erupt from the group of Romulans and Llhran's face turned dark. A communicator in T'Pol's pocket chirped just as Amanda saw the first bright flash in the distant night sky, like a tiny little fireball that quickly extinguished.

The Romulans began shouting and another bright streak cut across the sky. Amanda started to feel weak at the knees and turned to T'Pol to ask, "What's going on?"

T'Pol continued to shout into the communication device in her hand but Amanda's attention turned to the sudden appearance of energy flashes all around them. Reality shifted into slow motion. Her vision became sharper and more focused and sounds started to seem dull and muted. She stared at the Romulans in horror and watched as three of them disappeared.

She was dimly aware of unintelligible shouting coming from her left and craned her neck to see a group of people stalking toward them, the silhouettes of their enormous bodies and curved weapons just visible in the pale light of the planet's setting sun. Dazzling bursts of red heat and energy tore across the expanse, illuminating the night in an eerie, hellish display. Though she had never seen one in person, she didn't have to guess who they were.  _Klingons_.

She stared, feeling grounded in reality but somehow strangely numb to it. There was a hand on her arm. Pressure. Pain. "Amanda,  _get down_!"

A blast of disorienting heat and light slapped her face, drawing the air out of her lungs and sending her into a spiral of sensory loss. She was blind and couldn't breathe. She crashed to her hands and knees, gasping, choking, and blinking in dazed terror.

Her vision slowly faded into focus and Amanda felt intense relief until a hard jab in the ribs knocked the wind out of her again. Someone had  _kicked_  her. She saw several figures moving with alarming speed and when her brain pieced the images together, she realized she was watching T'Pau engaged in a physical struggle against a massive, snarling man with wild hair and a long, bizarre two-handed weapon.

 _Why wasn't the ship beaming them back_?

" _Amanda_!  _Here_!"

She scrambled to her feet and saw Llhran gesturing her forward and without thinking, she closed her eyes and started to sprint in his direction. The last time she'd been this afraid, she'd been running away from the ferocious Romulan.

She tripped on a rock, sending her face first into the dirt. She pushed herself up and forced her eyes open just in time to see Llhran getting cut down by two of the Klingons. She started to scream but the sound quickly faded and Amanda found herself pulled into the matter stream of a transporter.

She rematerialized in a dark room alight with a soft green glow and a cacophony of distorted shouting. She was lying on her stomach and staring down at a floor that had a peculiar iridescent quality. Before she could get her bearings, a pair of monstrous hands gripped her shoulders and half helped, half strangled her to her feet.

Her field of vision was still full of flashing lights and dull colors and she slowly realized her face felt strange. She took several faltering steps backward and gently touched her fingertips to her cheek. It was nothing but wet, sticky, stinging pain.

More people were materializing in front of her on the transport pad. More shouting. More wailing. More confusion. It took her several seconds to comprehend the scene that lay before her. Lhas' face was covered in a coat of green blood and he clutched the limp body of Llhran to his chest and rocked back and forth. His eyes were focused, confused, and angry.

Amanda clasped her hand over her mouth in shock and reeled from the agony, forgetful of the injuries to her face. She stumbled forward and when she caught sight of the smaller figures behind the two Romulan brothers on the transport pad, she screamed.

T'Pol was slumped in T'Pau's lap, a giant dark hole in her chest and bright green blood flowing from her mouth. Amanda tripped up the two short stairs to the pad, falling to her knees beside her dying friend. T'Pau's hands gripped T'Pol's face; the women seemed to be muttering things to one another.

Tears flowed freely down Amanda's cheeks. She started to sob when she reached for T'Pol's hand. It was so  _cold_. She felt a weak squeeze and then the hand went limp. That was the last thing Amanda knew.

She woke up in a dark, hot, suffocating room. Her mind started to panic but her body was slower to react. There was something wet and heavy on the left side of her face. She tried to claw at it, tried to sit up, tried to speak, but everything seemed to be moving at half speed.

"Lie still," ordered a stern voice.

"What's going on?" she croaked, gently fingering the strange, sticky substance on her face.

A light came on and Amanda surveyed the unfamiliar setting. She was in some kind of clinic. T'Pau appeared next to her bedside, her expression uncharacteristically soft. "We are on board a Romulan vessel. They have agreed to take us to the edge of the Neutral Zone and put us off the ship on a planet inside Federation space."

Then the memories started to rush back. The secret mission to the Neutral Zone. The ship with the strange crew. The hours of lessons with T'Pau. Romulans. Llhran. Klingons.  _T'Pol_ …

"Where is T'Pol?" she breathed.

"Dead."

"No," Amanda gasped, feeling hot tears welling in her eyes. "How? I don't understand."

"It is very simple. Klingons ambushed us. T'Pol and Llhran are dead."

She knew effusions of human emotion were probably extremely offensive to the stoic woman standing beside her, but Amanda didn't care. She cried freely for several minutes until she was reduced to panting hiccups. T'Pau offered her a soft piece of cloth and Amanda blew her nose and took several deep breaths.

"I know this is difficult for you," she said.

Amanda felt instantly angry.  _Of course it was difficult_. Her friend, her best friend, her  _only_  friend, was dead. She'd said so many awful things to T'Pol. Amanda was overcome by her grief again and fell into a fresh spell of hysterics. T'Pau waited quietly next to her and it was all Amanda could do to keep from hitting her. She wanted to be alone, not lying in a strange hospital bed feeling judged for the expression of her humanity.

"Please leave," Amanda wailed.

T'Pau nodded and backed away, leaving Amanda to stew in her grief until she fell asleep. She awoke some time later to the sound of a sliding door and automatic lights illuminating overhead.

"Jolan'tru, A'man-da."

She rolled her head on the hard pillow to see Lhas standing in the entryway. "Jolan'tru, Lhas."

"I would speak with you," he declared.

Amanda blinked and nodded.

"T'Pol is dead. I am sorry," he said. She grimaced. Much like his brother, Lhas certainly wasn't one to mince words.

"I am also sorry for Llhran," she replied.

"Yes," Lhas mused. "He died well. That is the most we can hope for."

Amanda scoffed, blinking away more moisture from her eyes and trying to formulate the appropriate sentence in Romulan. "I think  _living_  well is good also."

Lhas scowled. "My brother spoke of you often."

" _Really_?"

"Yes. He called you the human woman who talked her way out of death. He carried the highest respect for you."

"I only knew him for a short time, and I did not speak as well then as I do now."

"Even so, you made him think. He said he should have killed you. He  _wanted_  to kill you."

"I am happy he did not," Amanda replied, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck standing up.

"I am not here to do you harm," Lhas said after seeing her face. "You showed him humans could be honorable. My brother loved you."

 _Loved_? Amanda thought over the context of his sentence. He used the word "diae," which she'd always seen translated as "love," usually with romantic implications. Perhaps it was a more general term of affection or friendship.

"I see," she mumbled.

"Llhran loved you, so we are all here because of you," he added, meeting her eye. "He believed in you."

"I do not know what he thought he believed in," Amanda said. "I am not anyone important."

"You stopped a war three years ago," Lhas retorted. "That is important. So  _you_  are important."

Amanda swallowed hard and continued her struggle against her tears. "What will happen to your movement now if Llhran is dead?"

"I do not know," Lhas admitted. "I have spoken with T'Pau. We have come to an arrangement with your Federation; I do not know if it will last. I do not know if Llhran's movement will continue. I hope it will, but I do not believe our Empire will survive another war with the Klingons."

"Are you at war now?"

"The Klingons have reclaimed Acerrae. War is unavoidable."

"Why is it called Acerrae?" Amanda asked, remembering her confusion over the word's precise meaning.

Lhas offered a pained smile. "It is not the official name, but it is what the Romulan people call it in private."

"Why is it called that?"

Lhas arched his eyebrow. "Because it is what the place is known for. The Empire intended to colonize it but after the war with your people, we were weak and could not extend our resources so far. The Klingons have fought my people for centuries to claim it. They have been successful several times, but the Empire always takes it back at great cost."

"I do not understand. What do you mean 'known for?' What does  _Acerrae_  mean?"

"Acerrae is acerrae," he shrugged, his face full of confusion. "It means to give up something to your enemy."

"To surrender?" she asked in English.

"Tuh-surrendar?" Lhas replied, rolling the alien words around on his tongue.

"Yes.  _Surrender_. Accerae," Amanda explained. "Why do the Klingons care so much about Acerrae?"

"It is a place with meaning for them; I do not know what that meaning is. They call it Khitomer. I am told Khitomer is their word for brotherhood, but to Romulans, it means nothing but war, struggle, and death."

" _Khitomer_ ," Amanda repeated. She pondered the word but wasn't sure why she bothered. She knew almost nothing about Klingon. "If so many Romulans have died trying to hold onto a planet at the edge of your territory that you cannot even afford to colonize, why do you keep fighting for it?"

Lhas gave her a frightening smile. "Because it is  _ours_."

Amanda blinked awkwardly and looked away. She wasn't eager to debate a Romulan about imperialism and social doctrine.

" _Tuh-surrendar_ ," Lhas repeated, grinning thoughtfully to himself before saying in Romulan, "I should like to learn your language."

"I would teach you, if I had time," she replied.

"You do not," he scoffed.

"You are right," she admitted.

The door opened again and T'Pau stepped into the small, deserted clinic.

"I hope we can talk again before you go," Lhas said, bowing his head slightly. He turned to leave, examining T'Pau on his way out. The older Vulcan woman stared right back, completely unfazed by his subtle challenge before sliding into the chair at Amanda's bedside.

Amanda looked down at her hands and winced. "Hello, T'Pau."

"Amanda."

They gazed at each other for a few moments before T'Pau said, "It is fortunate your injuries are healing so quickly."

Her fingers brushed the weird paste slathered on the side of her face. "What happened?"

"Klingon disruptor fire grazed your face. You sustained severe burns."

"Am I going to have scars?" she asked, pressing down harder and feeling soreness in her facial muscles.

"The Romulans assure me these biological bandages are effective. I am not a physician, but your injuries appear to be nearly healed."

"Well, that's good news I guess," Amanda muttered. Her chin quivered. She'd have gladly walked around disfigured if there were a way to bring either T'Pol or Llhran back.

"What  _happened_ , T'Pau? What went wrong?"

"The Klingons have evidently acquired Romulan cloaking technology," T'Pau replied. "They were able to cross the demilitarized zone between the Romulan Star Empire and the Klingon Empire undetected. We were ambushed, though there is no evidence the Klingons knew what was taking place at Accerae. Our presence seems to have been coincidence. Even still, they destroyed our ship and one of Llhran's ships."

"They're all dead because of  _bad timing_?" Amanda moaned, taking a deep breath to try and keep herself calm.

"It appears so."

"So what  _now_? Lhas seems to think the Romulans will declare war on the Klingons."

"I agree with his conclusion," T'Pau replied. "Accerae falls just within the Romulan Neutral Zone, but its possession has been disputed between the Romulans and Klingons for centuries."

"What's the point of having neutral zones if no one pays attention to them?" Amanda asked bitterly.

"There is much I could say, but I am not at liberty to discuss it with you," T'Pau responded.

"Well, I doubt you'll answer this question either, but do you think  _we're_  going to war?"

"I do not know. If the Klingons learn of our presence at Acerrae, war with the Klingons is almost certain, as they will believe the Federation was conspiring with the Romulans against them."

"If they destroyed the ship we came here on, how could they  _not_  figure it out?"

"Reports have come in over the past four hours. Several ships of the Romulan Imperial Fleet have retaken Accerae for the time being, killing the Klingon scouts that attacked us."

"But the Klingons could have sent a message. They could have-"

"The Klingons would not have transmitted anything with cloaked ships. It would have given away their element of surprise. Subspace scans also suggest our secret is safe. For  _now_. So long as no one reveals our presence at Acerrae, it is likely the Federation will be able to remain neutral in the coming war between the Klingons and Romulans. Neither the Klingons nor Romulans have the military strength to open a full-scale war on two fronts, so as long as there is no open political motive to force their hand, they will keep the war between themselves."

"So we'll be safe because they'll be too busy killing each other?" Amanda sneered.

"It is not the peace I had hoped for, but it is a fragile peace for the Federation nonetheless," T'Pau responded. "But you understand it is a very tenuous peace which relies on absolute secrecy."

The woman's tone was cold and dangerous.

"Yes, I understand," Amanda sighed, sensing the Vulcan party line about keeping her mouth shut was coming. "I can't talk about what happened here. Though I'm sure my husband will find out someday because I'm not as good at closing my mind off as some of you-"

"Ambassador Sarek is a logical man," T'Pau interrupted. "He will understand what is at stake if he breaks his silence."

"I'm sure he will," Amanda murmured, rolling her eyes.

They sat quietly for a short time and Amanda took the opportunity to try and wrap her mind around it all. T'Pol was dead. The Federation was walking the razor's edge of war. It was too much to think about. She was about to ask what the plan was to get them home when T'Pau's staccato voice pierced the moment. "May I ask a personal query?"

Amanda balked. " _Sure_?"

"Why did you marry the Vulcan ambassador to Earth?"

She could no longer help the look of derisive confusion that she knew was spreading across her face. She often thought Vulcans worshipped privacy to the point of absurdity, but hers felt like a loaded question. What answer did she expect?

"What does  _logic_  tell you?" she asked.

"Selecting a mate is not a thing done with any large degree of logic."

Sarek had once said something similar. Amanda offered a thin smile and a nod. "I don't have a good answer for you, other than that I loved him. I  _love_  him. I'm worried about him; I wonder if he even knows I'm gone. I can't  _feel_  him, you know? We share a bond but I can't feel him through it right now and I feel so alone."

"You will return to Vulcan soon." T'Pau's eyes seemed to drift to a faraway place.

"But my only friend is dead. She died a horrible death faraway from her home and no one besides the people on this ship will ever know the truth. It's like she never existed at all." Her words trailed off into garbled emotions.

"No," T'Pau corrected softly. "She knew the risks and yet she came. T'Pol lived her life in service to Vulcan and later, the Federation. And it is not as if she never existed; I carry her katra within me. I intend to inter it in the Hall of Ancient Thought at the temple on Mount Seleya."

"A katra?" Amanda asked, understanding the word loosely implied memory.

"I believe humans would call it a soul or a spirit, but that is not precisely correct. It is a persistent and changeable thing, the summation of all a person's wisdom and experience."

"So T'Pol's… soul, spirit, katra, whatever you want to call it, is inside you right now?" Amanda asked hopefully, desperate for the chance to say goodbye to her friend.

"Not in the way that you knew T'Pol. You cannot communicate with her through me as if she were still living."

" _Oh_ ," Amanda sniffed, wiping away a stray tear.

"Yet I believe she would want you to know how much she admired you."

"She  _did_?"

"Very much so. She saw something of herself in you."

"Oh," Amanda whispered.

"I also wish to apologize," T'Pau remarked. "I fear I have misjudged you."

Amanda gave her a wan smile. "I'm starting to think I don't know you at all."

"T'Pol was among my oldest friends. She and I shared tea once a week," T'Pau admitted. "It is evident you do not prefer my company, but it is my hope you would join me for tea in her absence."

Amanda blinked. "You want  _me_ … to have tea with  _you_ … every week?"

"I believe I was clear. Do you accept?"

Amanda bit her knuckle to keep from laughing. "I guess. What did you talk about during these weekly chats?"

"We discussed life and politics. We played kal-toh and rufai-tor. We drank tea."

"I know nothing about politics and I'm terrible at rufai-tor," Amanda confessed.

"T'Pol was very skilled at ruffian-tor. Not once in all the years of our friendship did I beat her."

"I did once," Amanda smiled.

T'Pau cocked an eyebrow. "Perhaps you can tell about it one day. For now I have one more thing to ask of you."

"It doesn't involve secret meetings with Romulan rebels in disputed territory, does it?"

"No. It involves T'Pol's last request."

" _Anything_ ," Amanda said, her voice cracking. "Whatever it is, I'll do it."


	17. Together Again

**February 2229**

Sarek sat in the plush, costly chair, separated from the elderly Vulcan woman by an expansive granite desk, listening as she laid the situation bare.

"I have asked your wife to go on a diplomatic mission."

"My wife is not known for her diplomatic skills," Sarek replied swiftly.

"Not to most," Councilwoman T'Lona agreed. "Nevertheless, she accepted and she went. Unfortunately, the Federation has lost contact with the ship on which Amanda traveled."

Sarek steepled his hands and studied T'Lona's face. It was obvious she'd intentionally separated him from his mate in order to convince Amanda to leave, therefore, the mission Amanda had undertaken was one Sarek likely would have vehemently opposed. He'd never trusted T'Lona.

"Expound."

"There is little else to say," she replied.

"I disagree," he argued. "You could begin by telling me who my mate was meeting, where she met them, and why there have been no news reports of a lost diplomatic transport."

"The situation is regrettable," T'Lona murmured.

"Is she dead?"

"I do not know."

Sarek's eyes narrowed. "Are you searching for her?"

"Yes."

"And do you believe you will find her?"

T'Lona's silence spoke volumes. After a period of hesitation, she explained, "Ambassador Sarek, your inquest into your mate's whereabouts has made an already delicate situation worse."

"And you would have me do nothing? The authorities are aware she is missing. A thing which is known cannot be unknown."

"True, but I am attempting to ease the situation for the time being. I would be grateful for your assistance."

"I do not intend to offer any assistance unless you explain yourself fully," he countered.

"The security of the Federation is at stake," she began.

"Do not attempt to dissuade my demand to know what has happened to my mate with faulty rhetoric."

Her expression hardened, but eventually she bowed her head and started speaking. Sarek listened for several minutes as Councilwoman T'Lona outlined the details of a mission more reckless and unlawful than Sarek would have believed a Vulcan could contrive. T'Lona had sent Minister T'Pau, former Starfleet Captain T'Pol, and his wife on an illegal, balance-of-power diplomatic mission to the Romulan Neutral Zone, violating the Treaty of Algeron established with the Romulans at the end of the Earth-Romulan War, as well as the Federation Charter, which expressly prohibited secret diplomacy with governments not recognized by the Federation.

"If what you say is true, you are guilty of treason," Sarek said at long last, mulling over the most logical course of action.

"By the letter of the law," T'Lona admitted. "But is it not logical to commit treason to avert war?"

"Is war eminent?"

"I am not at liberty to discuss that with you."

"We sit in your office reviewing the details of an illicit mission to the Romulan Neutral Zone. You have involved my mate in your conspiracy. I intend to know the truth."

"And what will you do if I refuse to tell you? Expose me?"

Sarek repressed a twinge of anger and annoyance. She was right – he was caught between logic and his sense of moral duty. T'Lona was guilty of treason, but exposing her would endanger the security of the Federation. The Romulans and Klingons would almost certainly declare war if an attempt to strike a deal with Romulan revolutionaries came to light. Furthermore, if Councilwoman T'Lona was guilty of treason, so too were her coconspirators. Whether or not she understood the gravity of her actions when she agreed to go on the mission, Amanda could face charges and a lengthy sentence in Federation prison if this situation came to light.

"It is curious – how did you convince Minister T'Pau, a woman renowned for her exacting logic, to undertake an illegal diplomatic mission?"

"T'Pau is a security minister," T'Lona dismissed. "Like myself, she is privy to a considerable amount of intelligence that is not available to you."

"T'Pau is a _Vulcan_ security minister," Sarek corrected. "She does not work for the Federation. Neither does T'Pol, insofar as I'm aware. And I am certain my mate does not work for Federation intelligence."

"It is curious a man purportedly so talented in oratory would stoop to casual insinuations. Please, Ambassador Sarek. Speak plainly."

"You convinced T'Pau and T'Pol that you had the backing of the Federation Council for this mission. You did not, which is why you were forced to use Vulcans you could trust instead of other, more qualified Federation officers. My mate's presence was simply an unfortunate condition of the meeting with the Romulan rebels."

"You speak as though you have knowledge of what transpires at closed Council meetings," T'Lona mused.

"I do not," he confessed. "Though your motive is evident. You wish to preserve the secrecy surrounding our shared ancestry with the Romulans until you can create a favorable atmosphere to disclose the truth."

"I desire nothing but peace."

"You desire the renown that will result when it is revealed you were the broker of that peace. You have committed treason, risked unnecessary war, and needlessly endangered my mate's life, as well as the lives of others, under false pretenses for your own private glory."

"An illogical assumption."

"An assumption, yes, but one grounded in experience with your conduct."

"You are free to believe whatever you wish, but your mate will still be missing. If she is found and you publicly accuse me of treason, you must also accuse your mate."

"If I remain silent, I become complicit in your crime."

"Yes."

"Then I shall ask again: do you believe Amanda is alive?"

"We lost contact with the vessel four hours ago," T'Lona explained. "It is very likely nothing has happened; the loss of communications could be a systems malfunction or the result of subspace interference."

"How many others are involved? There must be others, if you engaged a ship to carry them to their destination."

T'Lona's face remained cold and smooth. "There is a great deal you do not know about the Federation and its activities."

"I am sure there is," Sarek agreed. "That was not my question. My question is, if Amanda is in the Romulan Neutral Zone as an unacknowledged diplomatic asset, how did she get there and who is leading the search for her?"

"Are you familiar with Article 14, Section 31 of the Federation Charter?"

"Certainly. It allows extraordinary measures to be taken in times of extreme threat. A provision that Vulcan fervently rejected during the drafting of the charter due its broad language."

"And yet Vulcan signed it."

"And now it is I who must as _you_ to speak plainly," Sarek retorted. "How do you intend to find my mate with a deliberately vague section of the Federation Charter?"

"The same way I got her to the Romulan Neutral Zone."

"Do you imply the Federation has a covert operating force operating outside the bounds of the Federation's laws?"

"I have said nothing," T'Lona breathed. "But I assure you, if she is alive, she will be found."

Sarek took a moment to weigh his options. The existence of a secret organization within the Federation was also deeply troubling, but it was logical to conclude such an organization had existed since the birth of the Federation. Based on the information he had, the best way to avert war and protect Amanda was to stay silent, but that meant failing in his duty to report a crime.

Amanda was only guilty of ignorance, a defense that while valid, seldom resulted in a complete acquittal. It might be possible for her to avoid prison, but he wasn't eager to see his mate's character permanently tarnished.

More importantly, even if T'Pau's envoy were successful in securing an alliance with the Romulan dissidents, public knowledge of the negotiations would force the Klingon Empire and the Romulan Star Empire to declare war as a matter of honor. He knew little of the current state of affairs between the Romulans and Klingons, but it was possible they could even form an alliance with each other if they perceived the Federation to be a larger threat.

"What would you have me do?" he asked.

"Your dealings with the authorities on Vulcan and Earth have severely limited me," T'Lona explained. "I can produce documents indicating that she left on a tour of the inner Beta quadrant with her friend, T'Pol. I wish for you to corroborate this story."

"You want for me to tell the Vulcan police I simply _forgot_ my mate was leaving the planet?" Sarek replied, pushing down another swell of agitation. "I am curious, why did you not ask Amanda to fabricate some lie about where she was going? Did you imagine I would not concern myself with her whereabouts?"

"It was an oversight," T'Lona admitted. "I always believed your marriage to her was political."

Sarek's anger began to rise and he concentrated hard to quell it. "This ruse will not work forever."

"If we find her, it will not have to."

"And if you do not find her, there will be considerable circumstantial evidence that _I_ was involved in her disappearance."

"That is unfortunate, yes."

Sarek sighed. "How large is your search radius?"

"Ten light years."

"You have twenty standard days to find Amanda alive, otherwise I intend to speak to the authorities."

"You would incriminate yourself and risk all out war?"

"I am not the one who created this dilemma," he countered. "At this moment, I am concerned for Amanda's wellbeing. If she dies or is already dead, the truth will eventually come out regardless of what I do."

A distasteful flash of anger rippled across T'Lona's face. "You should consider whom you threaten."

"It is not a threat," Sarek replied, rising to his feet. "It is a guarantee. Twenty days, Councilwoman T'Lona."

Sarek turned on his heel and left the spacious office. As he descended in the turbolift to the ground floor, he returned his secretary's calls.

"Amabssador, the transport for Vulcan has already departed. I am attempting to secure passage on another vessel."

"No," Sarek replied, thinking quickly. He did not want to return to his home planet where Councilwoman T'Lona held considerable influence. He was vulnerable and preferred to be somewhere off world and performing highly visible work. "I wish to go to Coridan and ensure the first month of trade in the sector runs according to the terms of the negotiations."

"Surely a more junior diplomat-"

"I shall handle the situation myself, thank you, Varen."

He ended the transmission just as he emerged from the Federation Headquarters building. He hailed a taxi and headed for the shuttleport. As the vehicle started to move, he closed his eyes and fought to set aside the dread that crept into his consciousness.

 _Where was his mate_?

* * *

Amanda made a face and squirmed as the long, serpentine animal raced from underneath the rotting branch she'd just overturned. This planet was crawling with the things. She closed her eyes, rested her hands on her hips, and tried to stretch her aching back.

It had been nearly three weeks since T'Pol died at Accerae or Khitomer or whatever it was currently called by the warmongers who controlled it. The Romulans had preserved her body in a vacuum-sealed pod and dropped them off on an uninhabited jungle planet at the fringes of Federation space.

Two weeks of a survivalist existence with T'Pau had been eye-opening. Amanda had always prided herself on being independent and self-reliant. Growing up, her father had taught her to make fires, build shelter, and find edible plants in the woods near the family's cabin. Adjusting to life in a jungle was literally worlds away however, and T'Pau quickly demonstrated just how helpless Amanda really was.

The Romulans left them with limited supplies – knives, sleeping bags, some military rations and obsolete communications equipment – and had it not been for T'Pau, Amanda was certain she wouldn't have survived. She still shivered when she thought about the morning they woke up to thousands of those snake-like creatures swarming through their camp after a heavy rain.

She learned a lot though, not only about jungle survival, but also about the fiercely logical Vulcan security minister. In the evenings when they took their meals around an open fire, T'Pau would tell her about the Vulcan Reformation, life before the Federation, and current Vulcan politics.

They talked a little about Amanda's upbringing, though she felt silly discussing her relatively provincial life with a woman who had been so many places and done so much. They discussed Sarek, and Amanda was astonished to realize just how little she knew about her own husband. T'Pau had never formally met Sarek, but she knew quite a bit about his career, referring to him as a promising progressive with a natural talent for oratory. Amanda agreed, but was secretly proud for her husband.

"Have you collected an adequate supply of firewood?" T'Pau called.

"I think so."

Amanda wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her wrist and sighed. The past two nights they'd run out of fuel for their fire and shivered in their sleeping bags. The only tool she had for cutting wood was a rusted Romulan battle-axe more suited to splitting skulls than thick logs. Her hands were dirty, cracked, and covered in blisters and she felt dizzy and nauseated.

She heaved the two pieces of firewood she'd just split onto her forearms and trudged the twenty meters back to their camp. She dropped the wood into the hefty pile and slumped down onto the cargo trunk.

"Are you ill?" T'Pau asked, studying her face.

"Just tired," Amanda replied, massaging her forehead with her fingertips.

"Eat," T'Pau said, offering her a pouch of one of their few remaining rations. Amanda eyed it hungrily but hesitated.

"There are abundant, alternative options for sustenance on this planet," T'Pau insisted. "Preserve your strength. Eat."

Amanda took the gray pouch, split it open, and ravenously consumed the stew-like substance. Despite their appearance, Romulan military rations were surprisingly pretty good and filling.

T'Pau took a seat on the other small supply locker and joined her. Dusk was setting and the sounds of the surrounding jungle shifted. The daytime animals were tucking in to allow the nocturnal ones to reign over their dominion. Amanda wasn't scared of the dark necessarily, but there were things that moved around in the night she wasn't eager to meet.

Several nights ago, they'd heard fearsome roaring and fighting near their camp and the next morning, Amanda located the carcass of an enormous mammal with red brown fur. The animal had several rows of ten-centimeter long fangs and it terrified her to think there was something lurking out there capable of killing a massive predator.

Amanda stewed in her fear until the communications equipment beeped, causing her to jump. T'Pau stood to investigate and Amanda watched her hopefully. They'd been sending a distress signal ever since the day they'd arrived and had heard nothing.

" _Well_?" Amanda asked.

"We have limited scanning capability, but it is possible someone may have intercepted our signal."

"Someone found us?"

"Since we cannot transmit or receive messages, it is impossible to determine," T'Pau explained. "It could be subspace interference or some other natural phenomenon."

"But it's a good sign, right?"

"It is encouraging, yes."

"All I want to do is go home, see my husband, hug my pets, and sleep in my own bed again," Amanda murmured to herself.

T'Pau returned to her seat on the small cargo locker. "There is something I must tell you."

"Sure."

"I need to apologize to you."

"You already did," Amanda replied, licking the inside of the pouch to get every last bit of nutrition out of the meal. There was a time she might have been horrified at the thought of licking her dish clean in front of T'Pau, but manners were the first victim of necessity in their jungle home.

"I have not apologized for involving you in this mission," T'Pau explained.

"I agreed to come," Amanda shrugged. "In hindsight it was a pretty terrible idea, but it's obvious you only wanted to have peace between the Romulans and the Federation. I understand."

"You were not acting with all available information. I deceived you because I believed it served a purpose, but I believe I was deceived also."

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

"We have technically committed treason," T'Pau said.

Amanda was certain her heart stopped beating. "Wha- _what_?"

"Councilwoman T'Lona assured me our mission had the backing of the Federation Council. There is a clause in the Federation Charter, Article 14, Section 30, that allows for violations of the charter with the unanimous backing of the Federation Council."

"So what are you saying?"

"I refused the seat on the Federation Council to undertake this mission. I am not a popular figure among the councilmembers; many believe I am too rigid in my application of logic. When the legislature offered me the seat, I yielded it to their next candidate, T'Lona, because she is respected and known for her remarkable negotiation tactics. I needed someone to persuade the Federation Council to consent to this mission, and I was not the person to convince them."

"Why _wouldn't_ she bring it up to them though?" Amanda asked. "Wouldn't sending us on this mission mean she's breaking the law too?"

"Yes, but the councilwoman has a significant personal reason to preserve the secret of a common ancestry between Romulans and Vulcans seek the reunification of our peoples. Her mother is Romulan."

Amanda stared into the dark and considered the revelation. T'Pau had admitted there were Romulan spies within the Federation during their short discussion at Accerae. "How do you know?"

"I have served Vulcan and the Federation in security matters for decades. I know a great many things," T'Pau declared. "Yet I am not infallible. I have put a dangerous woman in a position of power in the hope of achieving peace with the Romulans. My logic failed in this situation. And now that our mission has only partially succeeded and resulted in the death of a well known retired starship captain, we have become liabilities and our existence is inconvenient to her."

Amanda swallowed hard. "What are you saying?"

"The longer it takes for us to be found, the more I am forced to consider the possibility she does not wish for us to be found. I believe our best hope for survival now rests with your mate."

" _Sarek_?" Amanda closed her eyes and tried to picture his face. She missed him terribly and hadn't stopped wondering if he was worried about her. He always said worry was illogical.

"Do you believe he will look for you?"

"I _know_ he would."

T'Pau nodded. "T'Lona sent your mate to Babel to get him out of the way. T'Pol was supposed to contact Ambassador Sarek to tell him you were joining her on a tour of the inner Beta quadrant. T'Pol never sent the message. She intended to use your mate as an informal insurance policy in the event we did not return on schedule."

"So even if we are found, then what? You said we're guilty of treason. _Treason_ , T'Pau. We'll just end up in prison for the rest of our lives. _Prison_." The last word came out in a shriek. As the enormity of the situation sunk in, Amanda's nausea trickled up her throat. She stood, put her hands on her hips, and took several deep breaths.

"Be logical," T'Pau sighed. "We shall not go to prison if we remain marooned on this planet."

Amanda started to hyperventilate. She was either going to live the rest of her days terrified of the dark in a remote jungle or locked up with criminals. As she breathed, she felt her dinner coming up and turned her head to vomit away from her sleeping bag. T'Pau offered her a canteen of water and Amanda drank greedily, trying to clear the acidic taste from her mouth.

"Amanda, much has happened, and much can still happen. T'Lona is a popular figure, but I have far more influence. Should we be rescued, I do not intend for either of us to spend a day in prison. I cannot say the same for T'Lona."

Amanda continued to vomit. After a few minutes, T'Pau insisted she get some rest and Amanda curled into her sleeping bag. The night was growing colder, she was hungry, sad, and full of renewed anxiety about the future, but she was too exhausted to avoid sleep.

She awoke some time later to a bright light in her face and the sound of distant voices. She sat upright and rubbed her eyes.

"T'Pau? What's going on?" The light faded and she realized there were two men in Starfleet uniforms standing at the edge of their camp with flashlights in hand.

"It appears we are rescued after all," T'Pau replied.

* * *

Sarek thought of Amanda as he gazed at the bleak Coridan landscape and sipped the hot tea from the replicator. His mate enjoyed this particular blend. She often went so far as to say she loved it and though he told her love for a beverage was illogical, she insisted on the term anyway.

It had been nineteen days since he realized his mate was missing and twenty-five since he'd spoken with her, but he'd awoken two days ago to a new development. He could once again dimly sense Amanda's consciousness. She was _alive_. _Somewhere_.

He'd contacted Councilwoman T'Lona's office two days ago with the news to ask for an update on the situation, but she never got back to him. He turned to the holographic projector to listen to the news report.

An hour ago, T'Lona announced her resignation from the Federation Council, citing health concerns. There was already immense speculation about who would fill her seat, but Sarek was less concerned with that for the time being. He wished to speak to Amanda, but was uncertain how to contact her.

The door buzzed and Sarek tore himself away from the news to answer it. Sorel, the aide he'd brought with him to Coridan, offered him a small PADD. "Ambassador, a secure message has just come through for you."

"Thank you," Sarek responded, taking the device.

He clicked the button and entered his security code, and read just two short lines of text.

_She arrives tomorrow at 1830 hours, Federation Standard time. 1400 Sand Castle Road, Panama City, Florida._

_-T'Pau_

Sarek strode into the hall and called after Sorel, instructing him to arrange for their immediate travel back to Earth.

* * *

Amanda ventured through the wide double doors into a warmly lit room and glanced around. It was a happier and more welcoming place than she'd expected. There were old paintings of gulls and seascapes on the walls and several groups of overstuffed chairs covered in light blue cloth.

"Right this way," said Mr. Davis, gently touching her shoulder and motioning her toward the nearest set of chairs.

Amanda craned her neck to see the long vehicle pulling around to the back of the building. She sighed and took a seat.

"As we discussed on the way from the shuttleport, everything is in order from a legal standpoint; we have the remains and the death certificate was sent this morning."

Amanda heard him but wasn't sure what she was supposed to say. She nodded and gazed through the wide bay windows. It was late evening and the remaining light cast eerie shadows in the parking lot. Amanda knew just beyond the short brick wall lay the cemetery.

"Would you like to take a moment?" he asked, placing his hand on her forearm.

Mr. Davis was certainly very perceptive and sensitive to her grief, but she supposed people in his line of work probably had to be. "No, I'll be ok. It's very late. I'd like to just get this all over with."

"Yes, of course," he nodded. "Thankfully she made most of the arrangements already. She already paid for the casket, the plot, and the headstone. She didn't specify much in the way of a service though, so I was wondering if there was anything special you wanted? Flowers? Music? Clergy of some kind?"

"I- I don't know," she admitted. She had no idea what a Vulcan funeral service was like. "From what I understand, she was clear about not wanting any kind of fuss."

When Amanda had agreed to take T'Pol's body to Earth for burial, she hadn't realized she would be tasked with planning an impromptu funeral. She should have asked T'Pau about how Vulcans honored their dead, but T'Pau was too focused on delivering her katra to Mount Seleya. The request seemed odd. Why did T'Pol want to be buried on Earth and in Panama City, Florida of all places?

She wished Sarek were here – he would know what to do. She hadn't been able to talk to her husband in the four-day journey back to Earth. T'Pau had insisted she avoid speaking to Sarek via Starfleet channels due to security concerns, but assured her Sarek knew she was safe. According to T'Pau's rigorous logic, they had already been apart for nearly a month; what were a few more days?

To Amanda, a few more days felt like _torture_. She'd been forced to leave her PADD back on Vulcan and had no way to contact him remotely. She would have to wait until she found a hotel for the night to hear his voice. She could sense him in her consciousness again though, and that brought her some comfort.

"Amanda?" Mr. Davis probed.

"Hmmm?"

"You're certain you don't want flowers or ceremony of any kind? I know she was a retired member of Starfleet. We can contact them and ask for an honorary funeral detail."

"I don't really know," Amanda admitted. "But I _do_ want to honor her wishes. She was adamant about not having any kind of public funeral, from what I understand."

"If you're sure then," he murmured. "Then all that's left to do is fine-tune the details for tomorrow. You're _sure_ you still want to hold the services tomorrow? I want to tell you, that's really short notice. I know you said no public funeral, but surely _some_ people will want to turn up, you know, some of her close friends?"

"She was Vulcan. She was 141 years old," Amanda replied. "From what I understand, most of her human friends have passed. All she wanted was to be laid to rest."

Her eyes started to water again. She'd thought she'd finally come to a point of acceptance but maybe not. Grieving was such a strange thing.

"These kinds of deaths, the accidental ones, they tend to hit people exceptionally hard," Mr. Davis mused, offering her a tissue. "You can never prepare for something like this."

 _Accidents_. That was the official story of T'Pol's death – a shuttle accident. The announcement of her death would come the day after tomorrow to give Amanda time to have her quietly buried in accordance with T'Pol's wishes.

"Let's do it tomorrow," Amanda finally said, blowing her nose. "First thing in the morning."

"It's supposed to rain in the morning but it should clear up around 1100 hours. Maybe it would be better to push it to 1200?"

Amanda nodded. "That'll be lovely. Thank you, Mr. Davis."

"Let me go get the information ready for the burial crew and make sure everything else is in order. Excuse me."

Amanda nodded and stood. She crossed her arms and trudged over to the window. The cemetery looked pretty enough, but she couldn't be certain because night had already fallen. She leaned her head against the cool glass and sighed.

" _Amanda_?"

She spun around, thinking Mr. Davis had come up behind her but quickly realized the voice had come from within her. " _Sarek_?"

One of the wide double doors to the funeral home opened, revealing her husband. She ran to him but froze halfway there.

"How was your tour of the Beta quadrant?" he asked.

Amanda burst into tears. "I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry."

He approached her and reached for her hands, replying telepathically, " _There is nothing for which to apologize_."

She threw her arms around him and though she knew he detested such a public effusion of affection, he quickly returned her embrace. She let go of him when Mr. Davis returned. The two men exchanged introductions and they agreed to meet tomorrow at 1145 for T'Pol's interment.

When they were safely tucked away in bed in a hotel room near the beach, Amanda recounted the harrowing events of the past month. She talked for more than an hour, detailing T'Pau's lessons, the meeting with Llhran, the deaths of Llhran and T'Pol, her injuries, her weeks in the jungle with T'Pau, her fears of going to prison, her dread about a potential war, the journey home with T'Pol's body aboard a Starfleet vessel, and her uncertainty about the future.

Sarek listened patiently to her ramblings and when she was done, he told her about T'Lona's resignation. He assured her that prison was unlikely, war seemed to be averted, and life would be able to continue on. She nuzzled her face into his chest and sighed.

"Will you mind meld with me?" she asked, looking up into his dark eyes.

Her request obviously struck him as unusual, but he slid his hand along the slope of her cheek and initiated the process of merging their minds on a more intimate level.

" _I missed you_ ," she said through their bond. " _I missed feeling you. I didn't realize how much I needed you until you weren't there_."

Sarek didn't respond, but she sensed he shared her sentiments. After a short while, he said, " _There is something different about you_."

" _What do you mean_?"

" _I do not know_. _Your mind is… different. I cannot describe the difference objectively_."

" _I've had one of the worst months of my life_ ," she replied. " _Maybe it affected me more than I realized_."

" _Perhaps_."

They fell asleep that way and Amanda slept late into the morning. She was still exhausted when she woke, but she dragged herself from the bed and procured a dark dress and shoes from the replicator. The quality wasn't the best, but Amanda figured the clothes weren't too shabby for having come from a machine that could slap together molecules from scratch into everything from ice cream to basketballs.

They arrived early at the cemetery and Mr. Davis escorted them out to the plot. It was a beautiful place; the grass was trimmed, the weeds were pulled, and most of the headstones and markers were covered with live plants. Being here gave her a strange sense of mortality that she found unsettling.

"What are Vulcan funerals like?" she whispered.

"They are very private affairs," Sarek explained.

"But are there rituals? Flowers? Offerings? Music? Prayers? Mr. Davis kept asking for special instructions, but I didn't know what to tell him."

"Vulcan funerals have become less rigid since the Vulcan Reformation," her husband explained. "There is no universal set of rites, though many friends and relatives will meet with the body of the deceased to offer private blessings. There are also many funeral dirges. But more emphasis is placed on caring for the katra than the physical remains. I have always believed funeral services tend to be more for the benefit of the living than the dead."

"That sounds like something T'Pol would say too," Amanda moaned, hoping she could avoid crying again.

"Here we are," Mr. Davis said, turning to show a deep, rectangular hole in the middle of a row. "I need to run back to the building, but they're bringing her now. I should have asked if you would like a chair-"

"I think we'll be fine standing," Amanda said, smiling fiercely in an effort to hold back her tears.

"Of course," Mr. Davis nodded, turning to march back to the funeral home.

Amanda casually strolled up the row, examining the markers. T'Pol was going to be buried in the middle of a family of people named Tucker. There were several Charles Tuckers, a Rachel, a Benjamin, two Elizabeths – one who Amanda noted died as a baby in 2155 and one who'd died at the age of 22 in 2153.

"I wonder if T'Pol knew these people or if this was just her luck of the draw when it came to picking a plot," Amanda murmured, stopping to read the headstone next to where T'Pol would be interred.

_Charles "Trip" Tucker III_

_October 29_ _th_ , _2121 – December 3_ _rd_ _, 2213_

"She knew some of them well," said a raspy, feeble voice.

Amanda spun around to see a very old man hobbling toward them with a cane. " _Hello_ …" she called. "I- I didn't expect to see anyone else here."

"Well, they certainly didn't broadcast her funeral, did they? But I have my own little birds. Mind if I ask who you folks are?"

His hazel eyes darted between Sarek and Amanda. "I am Ambassador Sarek. This is my wife, Amanda."

His eyes twinkled and he looked back and forth between them again. "It's a pleasure to know you. I'm Jonathan Archer."

" _The_ Jonathan Archer?" Amanda balked, looking at him more closely. "The former Federation president? The hero of the _Enterprise_?"

"Something like that," he winked, moving his cane to his left hand to offer a handshake.

"I can't- I can't believe I'm meeting you," she stammered. "I remember learning all about you in school as a kid."

"You know you're old when your life is being taught as history," he laughed, turning to Sarek and forming his hand into the ta'al. "Ambassador Sarek. Live long and prosper."

"Yes, peace and long life, Mr. Archer," Sarek replied, returning the gesture. "It is a great honor to make your acquaintance. I regret the circumstances are not better."

Archer nodded and looked around.

"I remember T'Pol saying she served as your science officer," Amanda said, her head instinctively turning in the direction of the open grave behind her.

"Best one I ever had. She was a very special person. So was Trip."

"Trip?"

"Charles "Trip" Tucker," he said, gesturing toward the grave. "T'Pol's husband and my best friend."

"T'Pol was _married_?" Amanda realized how strange it was for her to be surprised that a Vulcan would marry a human, but in all their conversations, T'Pol never once mentioned having a human husband. Having _any_ husband.

"For fifty years," he nodded. "They retired from Starfleet together and moved right down the road from here. I used to visit on occasion, but when Trip passed fifteen years ago, T'Pol moved back to Vulcan. I was shocked to hear she died in a shuttle accident. I always thought she'd attend my funeral, not the other way around."

Amanda closed her eyes and nodded, desperately wanting to tell him the truth but knowing she couldn't.

"How did _you_ know T'Pol?" Archer asked.

"She was my neighbor and my best friend," Amanda choked, feeling hot tears slide down her face. " _On Vulcan_."

"I believe the ceremony will begin soon," Sarek remarked.

She craned her neck to see Mr. Davis and another man escorting a hover jack bearing a simple casket. The three of them stood a little straighter as it came to a slow stop next to the grave.

"Are you sure there's nothing you want to do? A eulogy, a hymn of some kind?" Mr. Davis stammered, looking at the group and back to the casket.

"That wasn't really T'Pol's way, I suppose, but do you mind if I take a moment?" Archer asked, scanning the faces of the tiny group. "You know, to say goodbye?"

Amanda shrugged and Mr. Davis nodded. Archer shuffled to the casket and rested his hand on it, and Mr. Davis and the other man backed away. Archer spoke in a hushed voice for several minutes, and when he was done he turned to Amanda and Sarek and asked if they wanted a chance to say a private goodbye. Seeing the tears welling in his eyes sent Amanda over the edge.

She shook her head violently and clapped her hand over her mouth. She didn't know what there was to say. She felt as though she'd failed her friend. She felt guilty to be alive. She wanted a proper goodbye, not the opportunity to sob over T'Pol's body.

She felt Sarek's fingers brush hers but even this tender gesture did little to console her. She cried bitterly as they lowered T'Pol into the ground. Archer grabbed a handful of dirt and tossed it on the casket, and Amanda followed suit, trying to catch her breath. Sarek seemed intrigued by the ritual but mimicked the action of the two humans.

"Would you like to stay and see the remainder of the burial?" Sarek whispered to Amanda.

"No," she murmured. " _Let's go home_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I keep making a liar out of myself. More than 6,000 words later and I'm still not done, though I am positive there's only one more chapter left to go. Thanks for sticking with me, you sexy readers.


	18. Epilogue

**March 2229**

Sarek's eyes snapped open when something jabbed him in the ribs. He woke to see Amanda half rolling, half falling out of the bed. She raced for the bathroom without stopping to explain herself.

"Amanda?" he called.

There was no answer except for the sound of her retching and spitting. She'd slept nearly the entire fourteen-hour journey back to Vulcan and had stopped only to pet Euclid and I-Chaya before crawling into bed. He sensed she was falling into a deep depression.

He rose from their bed and found her kneeling by the toilet, her eyes closed and her chin resting on her forearm. "You are ill."

"I was sick for a minute, but I'm feeling a lot better," she replied, rising to her feet. She rubbed her scalp with her fingertips and took several steps toward the mirror. Her face was thin and pale; she'd endured much during the recent weeks.

"Your complexion is atypical," he remarked.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"0422."

Amanda sighed. "I'm sorry I woke you up."

"It seems a better alternative to being coated in vomitus."

She shot him a pointed look and started to laugh. "Do you want to go back to sleep?"

"I would prefer to spend an hour in meditation now that I am awake."

Amanda pursed her lips and nodded. "Would you mind if I joined you?"

Her request was unusual, but he was willing to indulge her. "If you wish."

They walked together to the small meditation room and Amanda took a seat on the warm, hard floor while Sarek prepared several candles. "Do they help you?"

"Clarify."

"The candles," Amanda explained.

"The light is a point on which to focus; I find it helpful with certain meditative techniques."

She shifted her weight on the floor to get more comfortable and Sarek took up a kneeling position a meter away. She'd asked for instruction on meditative techniques in the past and he wasn't certain if she still desired his assistance. She relaxed her hands and closed her eyes.

He did the same and started to clear his mind, but soon he heard Amanda's breathing becoming more erratic. He glanced at her and saw that she was trembling slightly. Several seconds later, her eyes opened and she noticed he was watching her. Amanda sniffed and gave him a pained smile. "This was probably a really bad idea."

"What gives you cause to think so?"

"You came here to meditate and I… I know I'm bothering you."

"Your presence is not an inconvenience," he replied. "What did you wish to achieve by meditating?"

"I want to find a way to cope with all of this, but I can't stop feeling sad, angry, and betrayed."

"Sadness and anger are the natural consequences of betrayal and loss," Sarek responded. "Even for Vulcans."

"But a Vulcan would wouldn't _feel_ sad and angry," Amanda replied bitterly. "You would find a way to repress it, accept it, and move on."

"Yet that does not mean that betrayal and unnecessary deaths are acceptable. They are not."

Amanda sighed and rolled her head around on her shoulders. Sarek could hear the distinctive sounds of her vertebrae popping.

"I sense you wish to find a way to circumvent your grief by suppressing your emotions as I do," Sarek added.

"There are times I think it would be nice," Amanda confessed.

"Vulcans still recognize the necessity of grief, Amanda. There is no singular emotion involved in grief. Grief is a journey."

"I don't feel like crying anymore," Amanda said, her eyes watering. "I just want to move on with my life, but I-"

She hesitated, but it was easy to deduce what she intended to say. Sarek finished it for her. "But you feel you do not have much of a life here?"

"Something like that," she replied, unable to look him in the eyes. "I know it's not your responsibility to entertain me, or to keep me occupied…"

He had given considerable thought to strategies for improving Amanda's quality of life during her absence. Now that she was safely home, he intended to implement his plan.

"You mentioned these things to me last month, just prior to my departure to Babel and your unorthodox excursion to the Romulan Neutral Zone. I have given the matter serious consideration and I intend to resign my post as ambassador to Earth."

"Are you sure?" Amanda breathed. "I mean, _why_?"

"A planetary ambassador ought to reside on the planet and be readily accessible to that planet's officials. The staff at the consulate deserve the permanent presence of a senior ambassador. I have held the position for longer than many of my predecessors, and there are many qualified individuals who could benefit from assuming the post. It is only logical."

"So you're going to work at the Vulcan Science Academy full-time?"

"I have also given serious consideration to relinquishing my position on the Academy's Astrophysics Advisory Board," Sarek continued.

"So you're quitting _both_ of your jobs?"

"Yes," he explained. "Yet I do not intend to remain unemployed. Since our relocation to Vulcan, my duties have expanded beyond the Vulcan Diplomatic Service to include diplomacy on behalf of the Federation. I intend to seek a post as an ambassador-at-large, since I have already been functioning in that capacity for more than a year."

"Are you _sure_ this is what you want to do?"

"It is the most logical step in the progression of my career, but more importantly, I would not need to reside on Vulcan; I would be free to take up residence anywhere within the Federation. We could return to Earth, if you wish."

Amanda stared down at her lap and chewed hard on her lip. "I thought you always wanted to work in astrophysics."

"I possess both experience and aptitude in several fields of science, but I believe I can best serve Vulcan and the Federation through my diplomatic endeavors."

Amanda scooted along on her knees until she was next to Sarek and rested her head on his shoulder.

"What is your opinion?" he asked.

Her stomach growled and Sarek realized she'd not eaten since they'd departed Earth. She met his eyes and asked, "Can we talk about this over breakfast?"

She sat up and he helped her to her feet, but suddenly she clasped her hand over her mouth and managed to quiet a belch. Her face was shockingly white.

"Perhaps you should visit a healer," Sarek suggested, studying her pale skin.

"I wonder if I picked up something on that planet," she groaned. "The Starfleet doctors did their scans and didn't find anything."

They walked together to the kitchen and Amanda put on a pot of water for tea while Sarek replicated a bowl of plomeek soup for himself. He turned to ask Amanda what she would like and saw her rooting through one of the lower cabinets for a tea canister. She stood, stared at the bowl of broth in his hands, clamped her hand to her mouth, and raced to the kitchen sink. There was nothing in her stomach for her to expel. He gently massaged her back while she heaved fruitlessly and drooled.

"Let us get dressed," he suggested. "I intend to take you to a healer."

"I'm fine," Amanda insisted. "I just got a little queasy because I haven't eaten anything in so long. I'm used to it, honestly after..."

Sarek waited for her to continue but Amanda shook her head. She seemed lost in her own thoughts for several seconds before saying, "Ok... Let's go to the healer."

They showered, dressed, and drove to the nearest hospital on the outskirts of the city. Sarek took a seat while Amanda spoke to someone at the intake desk. Moments later, his PADD chirped in his inner breast pocket.

News of his return to Vulcan had spread quickly and Serel, the head of the Astrophysics Advisory Board, was requesting an urgent meeting to discuss recent findings of a probe launched two years earlier before turning the information over to Starfleet. Sarek had been forced to neglect his duties at the Vulcan Science Academy in recent months due to his diplomatic duties, and knew he was unprepared for this meeting.

" _Go_ ," Amanda said.

He glanced up from his PADD to see her standing over him, arms crossed and giving him a faint smile.

"I do not understand."

"That subtle look on your face," Amanda said, "it's the look you get when you're considering how to reply to some kind of emergency."

Serel was seeking a meeting within the hour. When he factored in distance and other variables such as the windy, winter weather and traffic patterns for early morning, it would take Sarek nearly a full hour just to get to the Academy.

"I can take a taxi home," Amanda insisted. "Besides, there's no telling how long I'll be waiting here. According to hospital protocols, I haven't been classified as a priority."

Though Sarek intended to tender his resignation, the Advisory Board would need time to locate a suitable replacement. His absence had already placed an undue burden on his colleagues and it did not seem appropriate to continue to neglect his duties during the remainder of his time on the board.

"Go," Amanda insisted, pointing toward the door. "I'll be fine. I don't want you to have to wait on me."

He did not _mind_ waiting on his mate and nearly told her so, but decided it would be pointless. It was logical that he should leave and meet with his colleagues after so long an absence and waiting in a hospital with Amanda would not alter her condition.

She took a seat and gazed at him. He attempted to reach her consciousness, but found her mind was quiet and closed off.

"You are certain?" he asked.

"Yes, Sarek. _Go_. I'll see you at home."

Sarek bowed his head and turned for the door. On his way out, he caught a glimpse of Amanda clutching her heavy shoulder bag and staring hard at the floor. She seemed different, somehow.

* * *

Amanda wandered through the front door of her house and slid onto the chaise in the entryway. Her mind still wasn't ready to process reality, and she'd had quite a few doses of reality during the past month. This was different though.

Euclid leapt onto the firm cushion and stalked in her direction, demanding affection from her only because Sarek was not home. She ran her hands through his soft fur and pulled him into a tight hug. He squirmed out of her grip and ran away.

" _That's cats for you_ ," Amanda called after him.

I-Chaya padded into view around the furniture and rested his chin on her lap. She stroked his head, drawing lines in the tawny fur of his head with her fingernails. It was his favorite thing and soon his huge body was lazily pressed against her legs, an obvious plea for more of the delightful scratching.

A brief memory of the morning he mauled her flashed through her mind, causing her to laugh bitterly. She would trust the sehlat with her life now; how quickly things changed. Euclid bounded onto the back of the couch, startling her. She felt badly about them living all alone in the house for nearly a month with only each other for company, aside from the person T'Lona had contracted to feed them and water her garden.

_The garden_.

She rose to her feet, fighting another wave of nausea and ventured out into the open-air atrium and gasped. It was winter now and many of her plants had shed their leaves and fallen into a dormant state, but her single remaining rosebush was blooming. She stared at it for a time, watching it sway in the wind. Tears started to trickle down her cheeks.

She grabbed the footstool in the corner and took a seat next to the shrub. She gently stroked one of the yellow blossoms, feeling a strange rush of joy and sorrow. A sudden movement in the corner of her eye distracted her and she realized she'd left the door cracked.

Euclid tore into the outdoors after a random shadow and I-Chaya chased after him. An angry feline hiss cut through the air and I-Chaya yelped. Euclid had scratched his best friend's nose for playing too roughly but after several seconds, the insult and injury were forgotten as they rolled around on the dusty ground together.

What a strange little family she had. She held her breath and clutched her abdomen. Her family would grow by one soon.

When the healers announced several hours ago that pregnancy was the cause of her exhaustion and nausea, she almost couldn't believe it. She'd mostly given up on having a baby.

Even with the fertility treatments, the geneticists never failed to reinforce the fact that conceiving would still be very difficult. She'd only been with Sarek once since her miscarriage four months earlier. Technically they'd had sex more than a dozen times over the course of two days, but she knew that didn't change much, statistically speaking.

As soon as she heard the news, she feared the worst. It had taken several hours for them to run a series of scans, but as far as anyone could tell at this early stage, the baby inside her was viable. Tomorrow she would meet with a specialist to discuss her unique pregnancy in further detail, but she wanted to take the rest of the day to be excited. She was going to be a mom.

The thought of telling her mother that she would soon be a grandmother was daunting, but the thought of telling Sarek was… _she didn't know_. She wanted him to be just as excited as she was, but that wasn't really his way. She rehearsed the conversation in her head several times, and each time she started to feel weepy. She knew it was common to be emotional during pregnancy and she wondered how well she and Sarek would cope with that.

She stroked one of the yellow blossoms again and sighed. She thought of T'Pol, the funeral, Llhran, and T'Lona's deception. Her mind eventually found its way to the topic of her father's murder and everything that went with that. Her father would never know his grandchild. She started to cry again, feeling on the verge of being consumed by joy, anger, and despair.

It was incredible to think she'd been pregnant during her little excursion to the Neutral Zone. Maybe if she had known she wouldn't have gone and T'Pol would still be alive. She cried harder, feeling annoyed for beating herself up over something she knew she couldn't have foreseen.

Her emotions and thoughts started drifting into the abstract. She was bringing a child into an existence with so much uncertainty. What if they _never_ achieved peace with the Romulans or Klingons? She wanted her baby to grow up feeling safe and secure, not caught in a battle of interplanetary politics. Her baby deserved better.

She took a deep breath and wiped the moisture from her face. She knew she was being completely irrational. She rubbed her hands along the length of her belly again and tried to be hopeful, realizing peace wasn't built overnight and that it would probably be better to focus on being a mother to her baby instead of solving the universe's problems.

There was a shift in her consciousness. She jolted upright and was startled to find Sarek standing in the doorway. She bit her lip to keep from grinning and couldn't contain herself. She jumped from the stool and flung her arms around his neck. He gave her a strange look and asked, "What did the healer say?"

Later that night, Amanda woke from a deep sleep to feel Sarek's hand gliding across her stomach. She rolled on her back and gazed at him in the darkness.

"I did not mean to wake you," he whispered.

"I know," she replied, taking his hand and intertwining their fingers.

There was so much she still wanted to say, but she wasn't sure where to begin. They'd had so many discussions that day about where they were going to live, how they were going to raise their child, and all the logistics of life whittled into cold, hard details. She inhaled deeply, preparing herself to ask him if he was even a little bit excited, but he propped himself up on his elbow and kissed her lightly on the lips before she could speak.

"I love you, Sarek," she whispered.

He rested his forehead on hers and gently squeezed her hand. For a brief moment in time, Amanda's grief, anxiety, and loneliness melted away and all that existed were the two of them.

_Soon to be three_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And seven and a half months later, this series is complete, though it doesn't technically end here. There are three more stories in this series – next up is _[What to Expect When Amanda's Expecting](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7440202)_.
> 
> There's more on the horizon. Recently I started a new slow burn human/Vulcan OC romance titled, _[No Winter Lasts Forever](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8831560/chapters/20248015)_ , which explores life for the Vulcan diaspora following the destruction of their home world.
> 
> I also have plans to post _Meet Me on Sunday_ , a new Sarek/Amanda origins story unrelated to this series. I plan to strip away a lot of the fanon surrounding this couple and write them as I've always seen them in my head.


End file.
